The Enfant Terrible of the Horned Rat
by SPX
Summary: He's a Skaven, a Son of the Horned Rat. He bears the mark of his god, His white coat and his horns make him a chosen one. But he's mainly an unique person, an extraordinary Skaven, who will do anything to live according to his rules, and not those of his kind.
1. Initiation

_Six brothers._

_Six Sons of the Horned Rat, born from the same mother,_

_Six Skaven were born at the same time_

_The Horned Rat has chosen them, for some reason known only by himself._

_To the elder, he made gift of his phenomenal strength._

_To the second, he granted his unlimited creative intelligence._

_The third received his physiological harmony and unsurpassed agility._

_His exceptional resistance fell to the fourth._

_He bestowed the fifth with his sharp senses._

_The sixth, meanwhile, inherited his power ...but also his audacity._

_When they were brought to each other,_

_They discovered, recognized, and some appreciated._

_Nobody knew then that they would illustrate._

_In particular, one of them._

_The one they called "traitor," "sacrilege"_

_Or"visionary", "guide"._

_The one they called"monster", "vermin",_

_Or"prophet", "hero."_

_There were no two opinions similar to his account._

_But all agreed on his nickname:_

_He was unique among his kinsmen,_

_He was the Enfant Terrible of the Horned Rat._

Poem attributed to Grey Seer Hespix, translated by Detlef Sierck

**Prologue: Siblings**

Garog was in a passable mood this morning. The day would probably not collapse under any surprises, good or bad. His work was not very exciting, but it satisfied his limited intellect. He stretched, cracked the bones in his neck, and hissed between his prominent teeth. He rubbed his nose, spat on the dark pavement and opened the door.

Garog was a Skaven, one of the children of the Horned Rat, that the inferior races called "ratmen". Like all his kind, he had the attributes of rats, while being a humanoid being, endowed with a conscience. He was fat and flabby, because he didn't use to practice any intensive activity. Indeed, his elders had quickly realised that he had no combat capability. However, he had developed good skills in curative treatments, instinctively, to compensate for his lack of fighting ability. It was been these skills that had enabled him to become the head of the nursery of Brissuc, the small underground city in which lived hundreds of his fellow ratmen. This had involved his castration. And it was him and his ratwives comrades who had the inglorious task of taking care of layers and their young during the first days of their existence. This was a thankless job, but quiet, where he faced much less chance of ending up with the blade of an enemy in his belly or the knife of an ally planted in his back than most of his fellow Skaven.

He entered the cell. It was a low-ceilinged room, poorly ventilated, which smelled fetid. He looked down, and his gaze fell to a potential charge.

Another Skaven was lying on the ground. It was a female. For the detestable ratmen, breeders were rare, there was about one female in ten pups, and yet not all could mature, even being rapidly isolated in special nurseries. They represented the future of the species, and their litters comprised on average ten individuals. Even though this was the case, they were not favoured in the violent and deceitful society of Skaven. Instead, they were generally confined, tied and drugged continuously. Small Skaven factories, that's what they were, and nothing more. When a male Skaven fulfilled his duty efficiently, his reward was often a mating with one of the females. It made him happy, while contributing to the perpetuation of the species. The female was the only loser, but nobody cared. Two moons later, sometimes three, Garog took over and watched the layer while she was calving.

And indeed, the one which was lying at full length was enormous, and its many flaccid breasts seemed ready for breastfeeding. For a quarter of an hour she had been squealing in spurts, the indisputable sign of coming work. Garog sighed.

- Well, we'll have to go, baby.

He approached the wall, and grabbed a pair of chains fitted with reinforced straps. He knew by heart the manoeuvre. Probably painful to the breeder, but it made its performance better, it facilitated the arrival of the pups. He made sure that the tight collar around the neck of the female Skaven held firmly to the other channel wall, and then fastened the bracelets on its ankles. The creature's eyes darted at from its haggard face, though unconscious of what he would do, before it squealed again. Garog went to a wooden wheel screwed into the wall, and slowly turned it. A mechanism set off with grindings, and pulled the chains attached to its feet. In an instant, the female Skaven fell on its back, half strangled, and its thighs spread. It cried out in pain.

- Come on, it's just a bad time-time to pass! raged the ratwife, repeating important words of his sentence as often did the Skaven.

He got into position, crouching between the legs of the Skaven. He took a long cloth of questionable colour from his waistcoat pocket, ready to receive. The female moaned louder and louder, and reared. Soon there was a noise similar to flatulence, and in a jiffy, Garog held between his long fingers a little sticky and squeaky ball.

_Oh, this one hasthe voice!_

The ratwife wiped the fluids on the little trembling body, and gave a little grin of satisfaction as he saw the size of the newborn. It was unusually large, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the colour of a few millimeters of fur. A Black Skaven, one of the Mighty of the Horned Rat. It was not going to need more than a couple of seasons to reach its adult size, much taller than most men-things. A formidable forthcoming war machine.

_Right, that bodes well for the followers._

Turning his head toward the opening in the door, he called:

- Skorsh?

- Yeah? replied a voice.

- Go get the Black Skaven chieftain. Now-now!

Fast footsteps echoed in the vault. Garog leaned forward, over the female, and laid the young black rat on its side which then clung to one of its huge breasts before drinking its milk loudly. Then he returned to his place.

- Good. The next-next.

The female screamed, struggled, rattling the steel chains noisily.

- Hey, stop moving! the ratwife ordered.

There was another contraction, a new gurgling in its guts, and another arrival. Garog noticed the size of the new addition, most ordinary, he spat on its head for a wash. It had a brown coat, which was the most common. There remained a small check to perform. The ratwife turned the baby over and pulled its tail up.

_Male. Really desperately banal._

He placed it firmly on the chest of the female, and sat back. down The squeals of the breeder predicted the arrival of the next, which soon found itself in Garog's paws. Another one of common size, a regular colour. Its fur was grey. The Skaven palpated between the legs of the little yelping thing, and felt his ears go down with spite. Another male.

Garog began to get annoyed. Sure, the Mighty had announced good results, but executives didn't like a litter of ratlings made up of too many ordinary Skaven. Most of these did not survive long in the society of the Sons of the Horned Rat. The most annoying thing was that those in charge of nursery, like himself, still receive their share of reprimands from the Skaven oligarchy, although they have not the slightest power over the formation of a litter, and for a good reason. It was a domino effect, so ultimately it was the breeder who paid for the whole chain.

- You'll have to do better than that!

So saying, he reached out and slapped the female. It let out a long cry of pain and despair. Strings pulled more and more of its limbs. But its suffering was not over however. Garog stretched his rag between the thighs of the breeder, waiting for the rest of the litter. He received two other ordinary small pups.

Finally, the squeals and the wailing ceased. The ratmother seemed pitiful. Tears in its eyes, legs spread, the five pups clinging to its teats of all the strength of their little slim-fingered paws. This show inspired only pity and contempt in Garog. Five children, half of what a healthy breeder could produce in a litter! And no new female!

_Really, these breeders have become unable to manufacture their offspring properly! Or maybe is it the fault of those who have sown them? Pooh! Despite appearances, I've more meat hungover my lower abdomen that these creeps have!_

One special Skaven in five. Perhaps the only one who would live more than six moons, if not fighting against stronger than him. The ratwife already knew what would happen to him, and this thought really brought his irritation to a peak. He was going to untie the unfortunate breeder and leave it alone with its brood, when it squeaked even louder than before.

- What, it's not over?

The loud gasps from the female Skaven seemed to confirm it. Furious, he hissed in exasperation, and went back to the place he had left. He reproduced his rag, dripping in dark matter. The ratmother hiccupped more quickly in pain, but without result.

- Come on! I don't have all day! Garog viciously growled. Hurry up!

He lowered his nose to the abdomen of the layer, and shouted again:

- And you, come forth! Quick-quick! The Horned Rat doesn't like being kept waiting!

The female let out a new screech, a final spasm, and a small Skaven flew from its stomach and fell into the clutches of the ratwife. He lifted it to eye level, facing it, and swore.

_Great, exactly what I needed! A weakling!_

Indeed, the newborn – yet another male – was much smaller than its brothers. It looked so weak it could not even scream like the others, only cough quietly. It had a round head with a wide and flat muzzle, and blue veins streaked its temples. Its fur was flush with skin, almost non-existent, partly covering its body and its sickly members. Physically, it looked more fragile than the others. As if it had to fit around an edge of its mother's womb, already shunned by its five brothers even before being born. While cleaning it with his cloth, Garog wondered if it wouldn't better to eat it right away, when he felt something unusually hard and pointed under the tissue. He stopped his movement, and fumbled. He felt his eyes squinting. He lifted the cloth, revealing the tiny head.

_One moment... No, it's not possible!_

Suddenly surprised, he rubbed it over again gently, and saw on two small nubs on the top of the baby's forehead, two embryonic horns. And when the little creature was uncovered more, he saw its coat shine with a white brilliance. Amazed, he held his breath, risking letting it fall. Very slowly, he approached the ratmother, and laid gently the newborn on one of its unoccupied teats.

- Incredible!

- What, what?

Garog turned, and saw in the doorway his subordinate ratwife Skorsh, flanked by Furghân, a large Black Skaven.

- So I have a new recruit, it seems? asked the latter.

- Look, both of you! Garog ordered.

He stepped back cautiously, and pointed to the huge female lying on the ground.

- Ah, I see it. Not bad.

- No matter the black one, you moron-moron! Look at the other one, nearby.

The other two Skaven voiced their amazement. Garog ordered Skorsh:

- Fetch Vellux!

Skorsh turned, and ran down the hall, bellowing:

- Grey Seer! Grey Seer! You have a new student!

**Part one: Anomalies**

**Chapter 1: Initiation**

A rat was travelling through a corridor, alternating fast running with careful stops. It sniffed the foul air, and ran again without lingering. An unusual smell stopped it. It pointed its muzzle around, sniffing louder, when suddenly a stone thrown with deadly accuracy cracked its skull.

- Yes! I did it! I'm so great!

The cheerful, hoarse and rasping voice which had uttered these words belonged to a Skaven. He leapt to his feet and stretched with a grunt of satisfaction. His size was comparable to an adult woman of the Empire of man-things. His coat was brown, his keen eyes glittered red. He wore a washed out tunic which had been green years ago, and a matching hat. He stepped over an old tube placed through an opening leading to a large dark room. The walls were covered with a chaotic tangle of copper pipes and several openings were dotted all along the one wall of this large circular room. The Skaven saw one of his peers, sitting on a wooden crate.

- Hi, hello!

The other did not answer. Without taking this into account, the brown Skaven asked:

- Did your instructor tell you to come here?

- Yep.

- This is the big day, isn't it?

- Yeah, yeah, if you say so...

This Skaven was smaller and had cream fur. He spoke with a drawling voice, as if he was in a trance. His yellowish eyes were partially hidden by a balaclava with holes connected to a shapeless frock covered with indefinable matters. Pus-soaked strips of material surrounded his arms, legs, nose, and fingers. He exuded a stench much stronger than that of most Skaven. His hands were pustular, viscous mucus was running out of his nose, and flies buzzed around his head. The first Skaven guessed that the coat and bandages hid infected wounds, the cause of the odour and the insects.

- So it's true-true? We are brothers!

- Normally...

- You're right! thundered a great bass voice then.

Another Skaven came in the hall. He was truly monstrous. Immense, far greater than any ordinary human, his blue eyes contrasted with his fur which was as black as ink. He wore a worn leather jacket over an olive tunic.

- I am Chitik! he announced proudly. Furghân, the Stormvermin Fangleader, told me that today, all those from an exceptional litter were gathered! Six male Skaven in good health of whom I am the first born!

Stormvermin were the elite troops of Skaven warriors. They were consisted only of Black Skaven. So, "Fangleader" was the word for Stormvermin commanders, in opposite of "Clawleader" which designed the chieftains of common Clanrats. The brown ratman looked up, interested.

- Ah! I was told I had an older brother who was very strong! I am delighted to meet you! I am Diassyon, of Clan Skryre!

- Skryre… The Warlock Engineers...? the sickly Skaven asked.

- The same. And I suppose you're a Plague Monk?

The cream Skaven stretched his lips into a parody of smile mingling cruelty and pride.

- Moly, of Clan Pestilens, not to serve you... brother!

- All lunatics! yelled another voice in the dark.

The three Skaven brothers turned simultaneously in the same direction.

- Ignoramuses with ideas corrupted by disease and insane inventions!

Diassyon gasped, and hid behind Chitik. Indeed, the voice of the unknown had broken out just behind them. Their mysterious interlocutor had moved quietly from one point to another without being seen or heard.

- And you, the great awkward one, I know your kind! You blindly obey orders unquestioningly. Others do it for you.

- Who? Who is speaking? Moly spat.

There was a rustle of cloth, and a dark shape tumbled from the ceiling and landed in the centre of the room.

- Klur, of Clan Eshin!

Klur was a little larger than Moly, but less so than Diassyon. His anthracite coat showed through his black leather tunic intermittently and gray strips of cloth which enclosed his hands and feet. His yellow eyes shone with a malicious radiance. The Clan Eshin was deemed to form silent killers, and some of them used some unfamiliar and disturbing form of magic. Instinctively Chitik felt suspicious. Diassyon and Moly carefully watched the newcomer.

- Say, we have a brother from the cowards who stab in the dark? sneered the Plague Monk.

- You mean you're jealous of my intelligence and cunning!

Diassyon raised his arms in a conciliatory manner.

- Come on, no hassle-hassle now! I can't wait to see my two other little brothers!

The brown Skaven turned to one of the openings, calling: "Yoo-hoo? Anybody else?". Chitik and Moly, curious, too, turned to the vault. Klur had a cruel smile, and slowly drew a long dagger from his holster. He grabbed the tip of the blade between his thumb and forefinger, and held out his arm back, ready to throw his weapon to one of his three brothers. A loud crack echoed through the air, and the thong of a whip wrapped around the wrist of the anthracite Skaven. The dagger fell noisily to the floor. The other three turned in one leap, ready to defend themselves.

- That's not very nice! the auburn-haired Skaven who had just made his appearance quipped in a honeyed voice.

Klur hissed in anger.

- Oh yes! The name is Skahl, of Clan Moulder.

Clan Moulder... masters of the beasts, who created their own animals before training them. He seemed arrogant. He unrwound the leather strap that still held Klur, and quietly drew his whip once more to his belt.

- You were about to hit one of us in his back! Chitik accused.

- I... was not!

- What if we tear out your tongue? Moly suggested. No more lies!

Klur was surrounded by the four other Skaven, who advanced slowly. A clear, assured, young and slightly hoarse voice ordered then:

- Stop!

Seeing the newcomer., all obeyed A great silence hovered in the hall. Moly murmured:

- Ah ha! That too was true.

- Incredible... Klur muttered.

- Splendid! Diassyon exclaimed.

Chitik, the Black Skaven, was too amazed to articulate any coherent word. The one who had spoken was his exact opposite. He was very small, barely bigger than a man-thing's child. He appeared to float in a sort of long black dress that contrasted with his entirely white fur. He was thin, and looked rather fragile. Yet he radiated a kind of magnetism that immediately inspired the submission of the other Skaven. His head was round, unlike that of most of the children of the Horned Rat. His nose was broad and flat, and two large pink eyes surmounted it. His ears were wide, and some simple symbols were tattooed on the inside of the right one. But the most impressive thing about him was his horns, two long protuberances raised to the ceiling, which comprised a third of his whole height, and were joined at their root in the middle of his forehead.

- I am your younger brother. I am the apprentice of Grey Seer Vellux, son of Thanquol, and our leader. I'm destined to govern, and to spread the word of the Horned Rat. My name is Psody.

Physically, any of the five Skaven could gain the upper hand on him. But none of them thought to. White Skaven were sacred to the people of Skaven, not only because of their biological rarity, but also because these Skaven were able to communicate directly with their tutelary deity, and borrow its powers to unleash a terrible curse. Furthermore, this one was the first to have emerged in Brissuc for years. To lay a hand on him without a direct order from an authority higher than his was a very serious crime.

The White Skaven turned to Chitik, and pointed an authoritarian finger at him.

- You!

- Yes, brother?

- You'll now be my servant. The function of Black Skaven is to provide arms to the Horned Rat. You'll be my protector and enforcer.

Chitik was more and more excited.

- You... you won't be disappointed, Psody. I promise.

He bowed his head in submission. Psody smirked.

- Right. My brothers, I am pleased to meet you. Now, follow me, Grey Seer Vellux is waiting for us.

A few minutes later, the six young Skaven had arrived in a sort of study hall, where several dozen of hardcover books were piled on shelves. They all formed a half circle, laid knee and bowed their heads, as the back door opened, and someone entered.

The newcomer was a White Skaven. Unlike Psody, he didn't look sickly or skinny. He was well fed, had fleshy limbs and short fur. He wore a grey sleeveless vest, a blue cape over his shoulders, and a necklace of braided teeth was wrapped around his neck. He was not particularly huge, but unlike most ordinary Skaven, he wasn't bending forward as if he was about to rush into a hiding place. He stood upright, and moved slowly, confidently. His head was triangular, his eyes deeply sunken with red irises, and two horns curled in on them went from his temples and were folded forward, bypassing his ears. He also had a tattoo of a row of dots inside the right auricle, while the left was decorated with two earrings between which there were three cuts, the middle one shorter than the other two. He held in his right hand a long cane bigger than himself, with three sticks nailed into a triangle, the form resembling the head and horns of the tutelary deity of the Skaven, fixed on the upper end.

Grey Seer Vellux was the supreme leader of the Brissuc colony after the Horned Rat. Nobody dared challenge his authority without being struck by his magic in a minute. It was rumoured that he was the son of the famous Grey Seer Thanquol. Perhaps Thanquol wasn't the strongest or the greatest leader of the Skaven, but he was known to be one of the smartest and most ambitious. Unfortunately, his ambition had been repeatedly thwarted.

Truth or falsehood, Vellux had faced a legacy not always easy to assume, but he always kept control of the colony under his iron fist. It was quite exceptional. Generally, an underground Skaven city was under the control of a lord belonging to one of the major Clans that constituted this unlikely society, and Grey Seers acted as advisors versed in the mystical arts of magic. But Vellux had managed a tour de force: he was placed in command of a city inhabited by a few thousand people, probably because of the identity of his so-called genitor.

The apprentices he had had were now all dead, and the young Psody was the first to serve him for a long time. The little White Skaven had been brought up by the Grey Seer, entering his service as soon as he was able to walk. Vellux had taught him the knowledge common to most Skaven, but he had also learned to read and write their language, Queekish, had been taught about the Horned Rat and his teachings Vellux mastered perfectly, had been shown the way to discern the winds of magic, and words and gestures to manipulate and unleash them on his enemies.

Over time, Psody had learned to obey, fear and admire his master. Any failure generally earned him a stinging punishment. Also his teaching had been staked with humiliation, beatings, scolding, but gradually, the young apprentice found the right way to behave with his mentor. Things had changed when he had finally shown the ability to use magic. A kind of indescribable relationship was created between the two White Skaven. Something that only two manipulators of magical energies provided by the Horned Rat could understand. And Psody considered Vellux as the physical, moral and psychological ideal he wanted to reach.

The Grey Seer looked one by one the six young Skaven, and spoke in a deep voice:

"You all are here because, soon, you will take a test that will determine which of you will be accepted as individuals in our society. You have swelled our ranks on the same day, all six, as your respective instructors have told you. So far, you have always been cut off from the life of our colony, and have been forced to stay first in day care, then the neighbourhoods of your respective clans. Soon, it will change. But while waiting for your test, you'll get to know each other.

"You know it, you're bound by blood. This should make you stronger, more capable. Indeed, as one of your breed is a White Skaven under my responsibility, I asked your instructors to watch you carefully from the first day. They all told me the same thing: you all have all showed unusually superior skills in your respective domains. All members of the same litter survived to adulthood, which has never happened before in our colony. The Horned Rat didn't ensure his only representative, the others have also benefited from his favours.

"Among us, there is normally no question of blood ties. We all are Sons of the Horned Rat, and none of us should receive more attention than another, except White Skaven. But your abilities made me think, and finally I let Deacon Soum of Clan Pestilens convince me it could be interesting to see if the Skaven from the same litter are more likely to instinctively cooperate.

"You shall spend a week together. You won't separate. We'll put you in a cave. You will get to eat, and most importantly, learn to know you each other. I'm not asking for complete harmony between you, it would be too rosy. But if you can focus your efficiencies to be a cohesive team, it might provide some good results. That's all that matters. In one week, I will give instructions to those who are still there."

With these words, the Grey Seer paused and snapped his fingers. Three brown Skaven arrived with a large metallic clatter. The three of all were carrying a long steel chain, and each of them was holding two strong clamps with his tail. They put the chain on the floor, and tended their necklaces to the six brothers. Vellux replied with a cruel smile:

- I'm sure you will become inseparable.

Chitik, Klur, Skahl, Psody, Diassyon and Moly stared in silence, and then each of them fitted his collar. The three common Skaven passed the chain through the ring of each collar, and buckled it. Thus the six brothers were attached together. With a grin, one of the three Skaven pulled on the steel mesh, intimating to follow him. Thus the six young Skaven were led under the mockery of the adult ratmen to a single large pit.

The hole was too deep to get out of without a ladder, and the walls were tiled with very slippery earthenware. There was a large platform cobbled with planks nailed together, mouldy ropes and old pulleys. The six young Skaven were lowered down the well by the three servants who manoeuvred the platform. The technicians left, and Vellux, who had watched the strange procession, sneered again.

- Have a nice week, my children!

A week passed. A flash for someone, an eternity for the six brothers. Personalities quickly manifested themselves during this forced overcrowding. Thus Moly, the Plague Monk, was the most self-effacing, spending most of his time as far away as possible, mumbling unintelligible words. The Night Runner Klur had tried to escape several times, but the chain was not even what stopped him to stop, because the paved walls were definitively too slippy.

Chitik was never far from the younger, Psody. This one had grown irritated: he didn't like to feel the presence of the Black Skaven nearby constantly, but he also knew that his older brother was his best protection against the deceit of the other four, and this fact annoyed him even more. Meanwhile, Diassyon and Skahl had exchanged stories they considered fun.

Once a day, they were sent some bits of raw meat in an insufficient quantity to feed everyone. The first time, they had savagely fought to take as much as possible. By the second day, the Black Skaven had set things right: he had distributed shares equally, reserving the best pieces for Psody. Any protest had been quelled with punches.

To drink, they had to lick the damp walls.

On the morning of the eighth day they saw the glow of torches above them. The grinding of machinery told them that someone was descending the platform. Finally, a few minutes later they were out of the pit. Before them, Vellux, Furghân, and other instructors waited silently. The Grey Seer had a delighted smile.

- You were right, Deacon Soum! Blood ties are stronger than I thought.

Plague Deacon Soum was in charge of Plague Monks of Brissuc. He was familiar with the precepts of the Horned Rat, and was the second authority of the colony. All members of Clan Pestilens had one thing in common: they were ravaged by disease. The role of Skaven from this Clan was to form, maintain and spread the seeds of plague, rabies and other devastating diseases. In the colony, this Clan was majority. He bowed his head respectfully. Vellux ordered:

- Furghân, detach them. You guys, I grant you one hour of rest. Meet me at my laboratory at the end of that period.

The six brothers were relieved that they didn't have to feel the cold touch of the collars any more. Klur ran on his own way. Moly followed the Deacon, and Skahl and Diassyon left arm in arm, laughing together. The two opposed brothers remained. The smile of Vellux resembled that of a snake before a chicken.

- Well, well, it looks like you found a zealous servant!

Psody bowed his head, very embarrassed by this remark. From the mouth of the Grey Seer, it sounded more like a reproach. That he was not able to cope without the protection of the Black Skaven. When he dared raise his eyes, it was to cast an angry look towards Chitik. The Mighty did not seem to realise this fact.

One hour later, they were in the study room of Vellux, a place well-known by the young White Skaven, who had already spent many hours there. Vellux stood on the dais. He inspired and explained with rising irritation in his voice:

"The Horned Rat appointed us to be masters-masters. We were born to rule the world. Sometimes we have to resort to inferior beings to help us. That's what I did by bamboozling the man-thing named Reinhardt Schmitt. He is the head of Niklasweiler, the small village of men-things which is above Brissuc. In recent seasons, he provided food and coal in exchange for metals that are precious to him, but not for us. But for two moons, he gave us nothing, not even an explanation or an excuse!

"This damn woodlouse decided to turn his back to the Horned Rat, and no longer honour our agreements! No more food, no more coal, nothing at all! Traitor-traitor! I want him to know you never joke with Skaven. You shall destroy his village, spread terror and death on these miserable men-things, so that we can set up a colony and collect the stuff ourselves! And for this stupid Schmitt, I want you to bring back his head-head! You'll recognize him, he has a purple mark around his eye. He's surely hiding in his house, it is the largest of the village. Come on, quick-quick! And do not bother to return without having killed-killed this man-thing!"

The Grey Seer had shouted, the six brothers blanched. He really did not seem willing to accept failure. Meanwhile something else had sparked Diassyon's thoughts.

- Uh... Grey Seer? ventured the Skryre.

- What?

- If we kill-kill men-things... we won't have their coal more, or their food...

- We'll pick up the coal ourselves! The furnaces of Clan Skryre won't lapse, be reassured. And for food, we'll eat their corpses, then their animals, and their crops, and after... we'll see!

A brief silence hovered. Then Klur timidly raised his hand. Vellux grimaced exasperated.

- What now?

- What if... the men-things... send reinforcements?

- We'll crush them and feast on their smoking entrails! Anyway, don't forget the men-things have fought the weird-things for a long time, and are very weak. Small towns like this one are isolated, I doubt there is much communication. Now go-go! No more questions, just acts-acts!

Vellux had yelped angrily. Psody trembled. He knew that the mood swings of his master could be terrible. So he hastened with the others to exit the office.

- Wait, Psody. I have to talk to you, alone.

The young White Skaven stopped, not daring to return. He saw the other five Skaven through the door, leaving him with the Grey Seer. He eventually faced him.

- Listen to me, Psody. On the six of you, you're the one who has the most value to my eyes and the eyes of the Horned Rat. You must try then to remind your brothers who's in command. You are responsible for this mission. You know what it means?

Psody lowered his head and closed his eyes, nodded silently.

- You are a chosen one of the Horned Rat, and my only disciple for a long time, Psody, but remember: the Horned Rat has no consideration for incompetents. I would much rather lose a promising apprentice than keep a parasite unworthy of his duties. If you fail, you'll be the first to suffer the consequences!

- I... I will return with the chief's head, or I won't return, O Supreme Lord.

The six Skaven were guided by a mature Clanrat to a narrow rising tunnel. The veteran, whose tip of his tail, one eye and an incisor were missing, pointed to the gaping opening wordlessly. Skahl insisted he be the first, closely followed by Klur then Chitik, Moly, Diassyon and Psody – who due to his status as a future Grey Seer, had the privilege of being furthest back. The way was long, and as they gradually advanced into the unknown, became increasingly nervous. Finally, the Moulder paused.

- Stop-stop! Look!

A very strange light was illuminating the tunnel, and a fresh breeze caressed their facieses. Diassyon asked aloud:

- What is it?

- I think... I think it's what they called "moon", murmured Moly.

- Moon? Chitik repeated. So it is night?

- Men-things will be taken by surprise! Klur sneered. My master told me during night, they sleep-sleep! It will be easier!

Skahl resumed the march, followed by his brothers. Finally, they reached the exit.

The six brothers looked all around them. For the first time in their lives, they were outside. It was dark, and there was not a cloud. Thousands of little sparks shone in the dark sky, and a large globe of silver sparkled. Chitik deeply breathed.

- Hey, this is strange!

- But not unpleasant, Diassyon noted with a sweet voice.

- Pooh! The air is too cold, grumbled Moly.

- Enough! Psody said in a tone which invited no reply. We have a mission! Where are we?

The moon was emitting a sufficient glow for them. They saw the surroundings perfectly. The six young Skaven realised they were on a high hill. Far away there was a long dark mass, that Klur recognized as a "forest" consisting of many "trees", large plants that grew on the surface. At the foot of the hill waved a path made of flowing water, a "river". And on the other side of the river lay a complex of buildings of various shapes and sizes. The Plague Monk scratched his chin.

- So, that's what men-things hutches look like...

It will no longer look like anything after our passage, Moly! Psody declared in an authoritative voice. Listen up, you! This is a small village, the night is dark, there are probably not many of them. We don't need to stay together. If we separate, we'll be more efficient-efficient!

- Do you have a plan, brother? Diassyon asked.

- Not yet, we need to know how their hideout is organized. Klur, you're the most silent of us. Go and see, and come back to describe it.

The coal-black Skaven nodded and disappeared at a run. He ran down the hill so silently that the sound of the river covered his steps.

The remaining five Skaven waited for a while. Diassyon was lying on the grass, and gazed passionately at the night skies. Skahl checked a large clamp mounted at the tip of a long handle. Clan Moulder Packmasters used to call this curious tool a "things-catcher", and used it to catch their prey by the neck to neutralise them without killing. Psody was a little further away, sitting cross-legged, head bowed and eyes closed. He was meditating, under the watchful eyes of Chitik.

- Too long, mumbled Moly.

- Forget it, replied Diassyon.

- We don't have the whole night! the Plague Monk grumbled. If we drag, Vellux will be upset! What is this doomed sewer...

He did not have the opportunity to finish his sentence. Something wrapped around his shoulders, bruised the inside of his knee, knocking him to the ground, and he felt the cold and biting touch of the blade of a knife on his throat.

- And… squeak! You're dead-dead!

Moly growled in frustration recognizing the voice of the Eshin.

- Right, Klur, release him, ordered Psody. He had learned his lesson.

Klur pushed Moly forward with a grin. The White Skaven grew impatient.

- Enough-enough! Describe the place to us!

Klur drew with his finger a rough diagram of the village in the clay of the tunnel. Psody thought for a moment, and gave each of the five other Skaven simple instructions.

- Once you have done what you have to do, you'll find me behind the largest cabin, that of the head of the village. Go, and glory to the Horned Rat!

And the six Skaven parted and hurtled down the hill by separate ways.

Klur bounded from one shadow to another. He was experiencing a new playground, and was filled with excitement. The adrenaline was pleasantly intoxicating. He hid in the backyard of one of the huts, and took time to think. Then he heard grasped the sound of footsteps. He sniffed the air.

_Three men-things approaching. They have weapons._

Very gently, he took a curious accessory from one of his pockets. It was a big bracelet set with three sharp propeller mounted blades. He put the weapon on the tip of his long ringed tail, and then quietly climbed onto the roof. He saw three men-things walking together. Two of them had halberds, the third a long sword. They wore leather vests, and light helmets. When they were near the house, the Skaven jumped upon the group. He fell on the leader, and in the movement thrust his knife between his ribs. The other two didn't have the time to understand what was happening; Klur threw one of his knives at one, and it hit him in the throat, and his tail whipped the air toward the other. The tail blade plunged into the man-thing's heart. He had been about to gurgle something to give warning, but the Night Runner did not allow him the opportunity. He leapt upon him and bit his neck. A disgusting noise sounded, and blood spurted. The guard died in a few seconds.

Satisfied, Klur picked up his tools, licked them with pleasure. Then he remembered the words of his teacher, Master Assassin Tweezil.

_Do not leave the dead. Until they are seen, nothing is suspicious, and the living ones are not wary. When you infiltrate a fortified enemy place, do not forget to hide the bodies._

He looked around. No noise, no movement, for the moment, they had been not seen. He ragged the three bodies one by one, and hid them in a pile of straw behind one of the houses. This gave him another idea.

Chitik had decided to take care of the men-things' animals. Without animals, they'd have nothing to eat. He went round the village to reach a meadow where he spotted the forms of four-legged creatures. Some lay on the grass and slept, others were grazing. Furghân, the Stormvermin Fangleader of Brissuc, had told his students the men-things called them "cows", and that they granted meat, milk and leather. The villagers would sorely miss them.

The Black Skaven knew he shouldn't make any mistake. He had to kill every cow on the first try, and without noise. Fortunately, his arm was strong and sure enough to decapitate each animal with a sharp and clear strike. The last three were disturbed by the smell of blood, but were quickly silenced in turn.

Skahl approached the mill. Nearby, there was a grain silo. The trainer had a wicked smile on his face. He spotted a small hole in a mound of earth. He emitted a series of modulated whistles, sometimes low, sometimes very acute. Quiet squeaks answered his call. Soon, twenty rats sprang from the burrow. The rodents obediently followed the Skaven who guided them towards the stock. Others followed, attracted by the cries of their fellows. The Moulder opened the door, letting the rats in. The small rodents plunged into a heap of wheat grains. Skahl went out on tiptoe.

The barn was the target of Diassyon of Clan Skryre. Always eager to expand his knowledge of technology, he was curious to know which machines used men-things. He was not disappointed. Several vehicles were safe in the large wooden building. Plows and carts were lined up, ready to be sabotaged. There was also a row of stalls along the entire length of the building. He smelled a strong odour of beast, and understood that each box contained a four-legged animal, with a long tail and a mane.

_Ah yes, "horses". They are like our slaves, they serve to pull their gear, and sometimes they ride them. Let's do this!_

It did not take long for him to spot weaknesses in the gear, and he tampered with the vehicles, laughing softly. Suddenly, his ears stood up reflexively. A strange noise came from one of the boxes. Regular growls.

_It reminds me of the noise made by slave men-things when they areat work._

No, the noise was a little different. It didn't reflect the usual sufferings that tortured slaves who were submitted to the most painful tasks. He walked quietly to the box the sounds came from. He passed his snout very slowly through a gap, and his forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. He opened his eyes wide as saucers, completely bewildered by the spectacle.

Moly of Clan Pestilens had memorized the location of the well on Klur's small map. The small stone building was placed in the centre of the village, not far from the great cabin where Schmitt slept. The cream-furred Skaven had seen his brother deal with three men-things on patrol. The way was clear. He walked quietly to the edge, and fumbled in his haversack. He drew an old piece of rotten meat kept there for several days. He rubbed the meat insistently on his most festering wounds. When it was sufficiently impregnated to his liking, he dropped it into the well with a grin of satisfaction.

_Men-things need to drink. It's almost too easy!_

A short exclamation startled him. His heart accelerated, doubling the pace of its beating. He flew to a dark corner. The cries continued, without coming closer. There were raucous breaths, shocks, flesh against flesh. Despite the fragrance of his disease, Moly distinguished the faint smell of blood. He felt every hair on his fur stand up with excitement. The smell of blood had a tendency to madden the senses of Skaven of Clan Pestilens. He couldn't help to go and see what was happening, and ran silently toward the source of noise.

He reached his head cautiously around the corner of a wall, and saw two men-things. Their faces were bleeding, their clothes torn, their skin sweaty. They were ferociously punching and kicking each other. The Skaven wasn't surprised, disputes of this kind were daily at Brissuc. He was about to leave, when he noticed something that stopped him. He rubbed his eyes, shoved his finger in his ear to remove all the dirt to be sure of what he heard.

No misunderstanding. The two men-things were violently fighting, but they were also having fun as ever. They laughed louder as the number of their injuries increased. Each strike was greeted with a cry of excitement, and laughter increased again when the hit party awkwardly attempted to stand upright. As one lost a tooth, they both rolled in the dust with hilarity. The Skaven decided he had seen enough, and walked away quietly, without stopping to question what he had seen.

While his brothers were doing their job, Psody, the small White Skaven, had remained hidden in the shadow of the big building in which Schmitt was lurking. Sat cross-legged, eyes closed, he concentrated, felt the winds of magic waving around him.

_There's something under the ground._

Vellux had taught him to identify things and people that reacted with the Warp, the plane of existence from which emerged weird-things and the winds of magic. However, the small White Skaven ignored what it precisely was. Was Schmitt a sorcerer? If so, would he be too powerful for him? Vellux would have warned him... or not? Would this be an additional difficulty of their ordeal?

A slight rustle of leather interrupted his meditation. He saw the great Black Skaven coming.

- Here we are, brother! They'll quickly starve-starve!

- Keep your voice down!

- Oh, sorry, Chitik murmured.

Moly was the second to reach the rally point. He was about to talk about what he had seen, but the angry eyes of Psody dissuaded him. Klur emerged from the shadow, tailgated by Diassyon. Skahl, who had been the farthest, was the last to join the group.

The six brothers were reunited. Diassyon asked:

- And now, brother?

- Well...

His ear pivoted toward the front of the house when he heard cries of panic. The Night Runner Eshin sneered. The White Skaven opened wide eyes, reached cautiously his head around the corner of the building, then swung towards the coal-black Skaven.

- What have you done, Klur?

- I gave them a little distraction.

Flames rose into the night. The male villagers emerged from their huts and gathered around the house behind which was the heap of straw that the Eshin had set fire to. Psody grunted in annoyance.

- A good example of discretion, fool-fool!

- Wait and see.

- How dare you talk this way to...

The little White Skaven stopped as he saw the door of the house of the head opening. Three armed men-things got out and ran to the location of the fire. The anthracite Skaven smiled to his brother.

- You see? Less guards around the target.

- Well done, brother!

- We have to go before they come back, Skahl suggested. Now-now!

The six Skaven came in single file through the back door of the property, Chitik leading.

They were in a small hall. A staircase went upwards, there was a wooden door on the left and another on the right.

- Well, where do we go? Klur asked.

- We must descend. I felt a gentle stream of magic underground.

Skahl raised his hand.

- Listen!

They were silent, and distinctly heard a muffled rattling coming from the left. Chitik broke the door down with his hind limb. It lead to a room with walls covered in shelves and furniture filled with hundreds of hardback books like Vellux's.

- There is nobody-nobody...

The Moulder Packmaster sniffed insistently. Like all of his Clan, his senses were sharpened thanks to daily exercises.

- I can smell fear. Panic. The same as the slaves-men-things when we sacrifice them.

Skahl stumbled against one of the cabinets, and grimaced with disappointment.

- But it leads nowhere!

- Not sure, Diassyon whispered with a chuckle.

Moved by an idea, the Skryre Skirmisher approached the library. He looked closely at each book, then put his hand on one of them, and pulled. Instead of remaining between the fingers, the book toppled. A clank sounded, and the entire library slided, revealing a staircase leading down. Moly coughed:

- Not bad, not bad...

- Enough! Chitik, you go forward!

The Black Skaven went down the wooden stairs that creaked but did not break under his weight. The five others followed, Psody always in the back. They arrived in a long corridor, directly dug into the ground, with a few supports here and there to maintain an uncertain stability. Skahl raised his muzzle.

- I smell a really strange smell. Something is awaiting us beyond this turn!

Indeed, the corridor skewed to the left. Chitik stepped a few more, and stopped. His five brothers did the same thing when they saw the "something".

The corridor ended with a heavy iron door a few yards away. Between them and the door, there were three beings, two rather thin and a third that was larger and thicker. Probably men-things, but it was hard to tell since all three they were masked. Each wore a steel helmet that covered its entire head. They had on dark pants and boots, but were shirtless. Diassyon noted that, instead of hands, one of them had respectively a thin steel hook and a long rusty sword embedded in its forearms, and the other one, brandishing a club in his left hand, had a tentacle instead of its right arm.

The third character was more impressive. Its stature was composed not only of fat, and Chitik guessed there were well-developed muscles under its purple skin. Its bronze helmet had two big horns. Steel nails long of ten inches came out of his arms, shoulders and back. Psody squinted as he made out on its belly a very strange tattoo of a particular symbol: an arrow whose base was consisted of a circle with the tip ending in a sort of claw. A curb cut into two equal parts by the line of the arrow skirted the circle around a quarter of its circumference. The White Skaven thought he recognized this drawing, but couldn't ascertain its meaning with certainty.

The big guy held a large well-keened sickle in each of its enormous hands. It stepped forward, and the six Skaven were surprised to hear a sugared voice speaking directly in their heads.

- Well, well... You've been naughty boys! Come, it's time for a spanking!

And it raised its arms. The other two weird-things did the same uttering piercing howls. Diassyon was the first to react. He drew a one-shot warpstone pistol out of his belt, lent to him by his teacher, and opened fire on one of the two emaciated figures. The thin chest burst in a red and green spray. Klur threw himself on the other little weird-thing, daggers ready to be driven into its flesh. It raised its blade and parried his blows with astonishing speed and accuracy.

Chitik ran to the fat one and swung his spear with all his strength. His opponent folded its arms and blocked the steel point of the weapon between its sickles. The rat-man tried to withdraw, but to his astonishment, the other one stood its ground. Chitik felt surprise and frustration, because no one had yet ever surpassed his strength so far. He heard the weird-thing laugh under its helmet.

Skahl whipped the flabby torso of the large one. The leather thong lashed the purplish skin of the mutant. Its only reaction was an ecstatic groan. Moly was frightened, and recoiled, huddled against the back wall. Klur jumped around his enemy, resting on the floor, wall, or any body parts of the weird-thing, while lacerating it with blows of cutlasses. The blood spurted from its multiple injuries, it fell on its knees, and the Night Runner positioned himself behind its back and slew it.

Still holding his spear, Chitik threw a big kick in the belly of the big mutant. This time it let go, but managed to deflect the weapon of the Black Skaven. Psody decided to act. He waved his hand, three of his four fingers outstretched, the last one folded over his palm. His three fingers were positioned to form an isosceles triangle whose main peak, represented by the thumb, was turned down. He pronounced a few abstruse syllables in a monotone. As he had finished, a green kind of lightning crackled towards the big weird-thing. The mutant belched. Chitik charged it, grabbed it by the shoulders and pushed it against the door.

In a big crunch, the many nails dug into the trunk of the warrior. It groaned in pain in a shrill voice, and shut up as one of Klur's knives was stuck in its throat. It fell down, face against the ground.

The Skaven put away their weapons. Diassyon got the reloading equipment for his gun out of one of his little bags.

- We were the strongest, Psody noted. Except for you, Moly!

The sickly Skaven sniffed.

- I am a Plague carrier, not a wrestler.

- We'll see what Vellux thinks about it. For now, we continue. The winds of magic come from behind that door. Chitik, open it!

The Black Skaven pulled the heavy door that with a scraping siybd. The six brothers crossed the threshold, and fell on a rather singular scene.

They were in a large room, whose ground was made of cobblestones and streams of blood flowed in some of the deeper grooves. There was a cabinet full of books, a desk on which rested a large open volume, and a laboratory bench with many vials, bottles, cans and other containers in a corner. But the most astonishing item was in the centre of the room. They saw a torture rack, on which one of their own was tied, a Skaven. The machine had the wrists of the creature above its head and its legs were wide apart, which revealed more precisely its nature to the six brothers.

- Hey... Psody, is this not a...?

- Yes, Klur. It is a breeder!

The poor thing looked conscious, but it was breathing hard. Far from feeling reassured to see individuals of its species, its anxiety seemed to increase. It had a short coat, and the hair on its back and its head had been dyed blue and pink colorations. Its naked body was covered with bruises and lacerations. Strange cabalistic signs were inked on its chest and belly.

The smell of the breeder excited the hormones of the Packmaster and the Night Runner. Subjugated, they immediately forgot everything, and thought nothing but one thing:

- Oh... I feel odd, Skahl muttered.

- Me too, whispered Klur. Nice titbit…

- That I'll gladly taste.

- What? You? You're kidding!

Each Skaven was by one side of the prisoner, and barked insults over it at the muzzle of the other one. Then they began to paw each other. Psody realised this, and squeaked:

- Stop-Stop! It is an order-order!

Skahl and Klur had grabbed each other, squealing and spiting in anger.

- Chitik, thwack these goofs!

The huge Black Skaven crushed his fists on the skulls of his two brothers who fell down simultaneously.

- Females are reserved to deserving Skaven! Psody admonished, furious. Did you forget what you've been taught?

Both Skaven got up painfully, and turned back, cursing.

- Chitik, watch those two, and squash-squash the first one who lashes out, ordered the young apprentice.

- Yes, brother.

Psody thought about what to do, as he heard the distinctive sound of a small object falling from furniture. This sound didn't escape the ultra sensitive ears of his five brothers either. An anguished groan sounded from behind a chest. Klur jumped on the wardrobe, whistling, and grinned as he saw a man-thing dressed in precious clothes, trembling with fear, on all fours. The male jumped up, screaming, and ran desperately toward the door. Chitik aimed a blow with the flat of the blade of his spear in the ribs, sending it crashing against the wall. Immediately, Skahl pounced on the man, brandishing his things-catcher. The giant claw closed around the neck of his prey. The unfortunate clutched on steel, desperately trying to loosen the grip, as the internal nails were already lacerating its skin.

Moly approached, examined the terror-twisted face of the human.

- That's it. Look, Psody, it has a spot on its eye!

Without releasing the handle of his tool, Skahl turned his head toward the apprentice Grey Seer, and looked at him with a questioning eye. He answered with a cruel smile:

- Grey Seer Vellux ordered us to bring the head of the chief, Skahl. He didn't specify "with the body".

The Packmaster laughed insanely. Even if it had not understood the words of the White Skaven, the man-thing guessed that its fate was sealed, and cried in despair. Skahl pulled on the handle of his things-catcher, and the clamp closed with a snap. The head and body of Schmitt fell on the floor in a flood of warm blood. The six Skaven cheered, giggled and ululated with joy. Then Psody raised his hands.

- Good! Now, decision-decision.

- Yeah! What about the breeder? Moly asked, approaching it.

Chitik stood ready to cool again any ardour of his brothers, but grumbled as he heard the creak of the stairs in the distance. He swiftly left the cellar. Psody picked up the head of the man-thing, and stuffed it in his purse. Then he looked at the book on the shelf. It was a grimoire whose pages were made of dried skin, with strange symbols written with red ink, probably blood. Its jacket seemed made of flesh, which contracted slightly in contact with his knuckles, and it had pretty curious attributes – a tooth here, an eye over there.

- Hey, Psody! Look!

Diassyon had brought him a neat and clean piece of paper, with lightly browned edges. Characters were written on it, and the sign drawn on the bottom was the same as the one on the belly of the big weird-thing. Psody squinted.

- Have you seen the seal?

- Yes.

- Do you understand what it says?

- No. I think it is the language of men-things, but I haven't learned to read it. Vellux knows, I'll show him.

The White Skaven stored the letter in his pocket. Skahl couldn't refrain any longer. He took advantage of the absence of the Black Skaven to start his assault. With an eager grin, he threw himself on the breeder, and pressed his pelvis against its own before savagely laying it. The female yelled. Psody spat:

- No, Skahl, no-no! Skahl, stop, I order you!

Skahl didn't listen, he wasn't listening to anything. He felt nothing but his bestial pleasure rising, rising, and becoming intoxicating. Suddenly a sharp pain flared his abdomen, making him stop his tremors. This inflammation went up his guts, then ran through his spine before crushing his heart. He jumped back and uttered a long, terrible howl of pain. Chitik came running, the calf of a man-thing between his jaws, and stopped short as he saw the Moulder.

Four of the five remaining brothers gazed Skahl, dumbfounded. He rolled on the ground with shrieks, scraping the ground with his claws, his tail lashing the air frantically. He screamed and writhed for what seemed like a long time. Finally, he remained prostrate on the ground, frightful, folded in himself, clutching his crotch with both hands. He had a last spasm, yellow slobber dribbled from his mouth, and he expired.

All were terrified. Except Psody, who hadn't reacted throughout the scene. Far from feeling any sense of compassion, the apprentice leaned over the still warm body of his brother and inveighed:

- You idiot-idiot! A good lesson for you!

Then he turned to the female, which emitted little whimpers resembling tears. He examined it carefully from every angle, pressed his fingers gently on its abdomen, and focused his attention to the symbols drawn on its skin. Finally, he recognized the clamp-shaped sign.

- These tattoos… they are marks of Slaanesh.

- Slaanesh? Diassyon repeated in a questioning tone.

- The god of the weird-things that encourages his worshippers to do odd-odd stuff. It prompts men-things to copulate, and injure themselves for pleasure.

- Hmm, that's why these men-things behaved so oddly in the village? Moly suggested. The influence of this god?

- Most likely. Now we need to bring this female to Grey Seer Vellux. But before that, I want to do something.

The apprentice went to the shelves. He chose to smell a few potions and powders, mixed them in a bowl with a spoon and tossed them together. Then he approached the rack.

- Chitik, open its mouth.

- Yes, brother.

The huge Black Skaven grabbed the muzzle and lower jaw of the female Skaven, and spread his hands. The unfortunate squealed in pain, shook its head in all directions, but it had no chance against the Chitik's steel grip. Psody whispered in the ear of the prisoner:

- Consider yourself happy, miserable creature. These men-things would have killed you. I need you alive-alive. For now.

And he poured the solution directly into the throat of the female. It struggled weakly, but quickly stopped, and fell asleep.

- There, so, it won't break our eardrums. Let's take it away.

Diassyon and Klur untied the bracelets, and Chitik threw it on his back without any effort. Psody picked up the dense grimoire.

- Let's go! Quick-quick!

All of them left the cellar, leaving the foaming corpse of Skahl unceremoniously. The fire had intensified, and the panic was so widespread in the village they had no trouble sneaking in the shadows to return to their burrow. The great Chitik had not been hampered by the weight of their loot.

Vellux was not bothered by the disappearance of one of the young Skaven, but their unlikely booty grabbed his full attention. He ordered two young apprentices of Clan Moulder to carry the breeder discreetly into a cell, promising to himself to study it carefully, and asked Psody to follow him alone into the schoolroom. He was even more surprised when his pupil told him what had happened to Skahl. As the small White Skaven showed him the letter, he read aloud to him:

"My Treasury,

"Early results are very encouraging. Thanks to your cooperation, we will very soon be able to launch our ultimate weapon on this mutagenic-stoned vermin.

"I understand your concerns about a hypothetical retaliation of this Vellux wastrel. No worries, I'll be back soon to personally take care of him. Meanwhile, I beg you to accept help from Hessem, the one who brought you this missive. He is a loyal and faithful servant, he will protect you until my next visit in the next three weeks.

"Keep up the good work, you shall see very quickly that the game is worth the candle.

"Aescos Karkadourian"

Vellux folded the letter and put it away in a drawer of his desk. Then he flipped through the book in leather.

- Hmm... This is a spell book containing elaborate rituals, but with a simple goal: the weird-things prepare a major attack on our people. They want to use deadly weapons.

- Which one, o greatest lucid of the most lucid?

- Our ratmothers. What happened to Skahl should happen to us. These cultists serve Slaanesh, the god of instinct and secrets. They wanted to affect us by sending us cursed females.

- But I don't understand, oh farseer among the farseers! What female whose mating causes instant death could be dangerous for an entire people? An idiot like Skahl was sufficient to prepare us to be cautious.

- Yes, because Skahl is dead-dead at once. But they were experimenting to find the right rituals that would have cursed the breeder in a more insidious way: a male who might have copulated with it would die a few weeks later, on the orders of the sorcerer, in the same circumstances. Who would suspect a disease from a female? And what if the curse was sufficient to eliminate at once all who would have mated with it with a single magic formula?

- In all cases, it is clear this Aescos Karkadourian sorcerer is taking you for a fool, and he's sadly mistaken, my master with intelligence surpassed only by the Horned Rat's.

- Indeed, Psody. But I'll take care of him. And you'll help me.

- I'll obey the least of your desires.

Psody kneeled down, and bowed his head. Vellux lifted his chin with a small movement of his fingers along his cheek.

- I know, but for now, let's just take care of you. Apart from Skahl, you have all completed your mission successfully. Even better, you have uncovered a plot against our race. The Horned Rat is very pleased with all of you, and me too. You and your brothers are now full members of the Skaven Society, it will be publicly announced tomorrow. In the meantime, I'd like to grant you a special reward.

Psody didn't know what to think. In the mouth of his master, a "special award" could be anything, including a memorable punishment. But he had accomplished his work, and more. The Grey Seer wouldn't give him a low blow! He waited anxiously while Vellux continued:

- Psody, my young disciple, can you tell me which one of your four still living brothers was the most worthy to serve thee?

The young White Skaven didn't hesitate.

- It's Chitik, omnipotent supreme, even if your perspicacity already whispered to you, I assure you. He remained obedient, faithful and efficient, but more importantly he didn't contest my orders once, and performed his duties with zeal.

- Right. Fetch him, and find me both at the crossroads of the tunnel of Poverty and the trail of Bloody Cutlass.

The two brothers didn't have to wait long for the Grey Seer. He took them to the south of the colony. They went through a huge cavern where the ground couldn't be seen, it was so far away. A multitude of walkways, rope bridges stretched over the abyss like a monstrous spider's web. Finally, Vellux stopped in front of a heavy door. He used the door knocker.

- You don't know that area, and yet you already came, a long time ago.

The door opened. Chitik grunted in surprise at seeing a rather small, but very fat Skaven. The fat one seemed astonished, and said in a shrill voice:

- Oh! Gosh! My little all-white benefactor!

- Uh... who are you? Psody asked, uncomfortable.

Vellux chuckled.

- I present to you Garog. He is the ratwife who brought you into the world.

- I remember you, the Black Skaven, said the latter. You were the first one of the litter, and you already had quite a loud voice! And it is thanks to you, the youngest, I live comfortably today! It's good to see you again, my children!

- Garog, these two young Skaven are now no longer children. You see what I mean?

- Oh ho! Of course, o great omnipotent one filled with wisdom and benevolence! I've exactly what they need. Come!

Garog invited the three Skaven to follow.

They circulated a few minutes in a dimly lit long corridor lined with many strong doors. Behind one of them, Psody heard very unusual and rather disturbing sounds, like grunts and whining. Chitik remained impassive, but in reality he didn't take his eyes off his young brother, always taking care of him. Finally, the fat ratwife stopped before one of the doors. He fitted one of the keys from his outfit into the lock, turned it, and the door opened with a long grinding noise to a wet cell.

The Grey Seer led the two young Skaven behind Garog into the room. Chitik had to bend to avoid hitting his head on the doorway. Psody had guessed what he would see, but nevertheless he could hardly believed it. His suspicion was confirmed as he saw in the dimly lit room two massive silhouettes. Two Skaven breeders were laid on straw, huge, their limbs atrophied by the apparent lack of activity. A strong odour of warpstone incense floated, partially masking another more bestial musk. The Grey Seer gave a grin and muttered in a smooth voice:

- I thought that a final test to prove your maturity was required. You have both been appointed by the Horned Rat, it is your duty to pass on your legacy to the future generations. And not just any inheritance. In your veins flows a very precious blood.

Vellux put a hand on Chitik's arm.

- Firstly, that of an elite warrior, feared by all.

Then he stood next to Psody, patting his shoulder paternally.

- And secondly, that of a chosen one of the Horned Rat.

The ratwife fastened the necklace of one of the breeders at the wall. Then he passed to the other one while the Grey Seer continued:

- Really, to pass on your so exceptional abilities is a sacred duty. And for this once, you can mix duty and pleasure.

The two brothers stared at Vellux, with a questioningly look. The Grey Seer smiled mischievously.

- Don't worry, these ones are healthy. They have to be, if we want to perpetuate the superiority-superiority of our species. Come before me tomorrow morning, after the chime, with your other brothers. Until then, let your instincts-instincts be expressed.

The Grey Seer retreated toward the door, and left the cell. The ratwife followed him and closed the door behind him. Psody could hear his master whispering: "make sure no one bothers them!". Then he looked at Chitik. The latter didn't hesitate a moment longer. With a wild cry, he threw himself on the largest female, and quickly its squeals mingled with his panting.

Psody stared at the other breeder. Lying full length on the straw, it was quieter, perhaps more stultified by the plumes of smoke released by the censer set near its nose. This female, which was almost twice as big as him, looked at him with haggard eyes. The shadow of a half smug, half ninny smile passed over its face... with something that looked like mockery. The White Skaven had the uneasy feeling that it was laughing at his hesitation. Seeing his brother give free rein to his impulses, he shrugged.

_After all, it's an experience like any other._

He slowly withdrew his clothes, and walked timidly toward the female Skaven. It giggled more when he awkwardly climbed upon it.

_A violent sword blow. The sinister ringing of iron against iron. A screech._

_Black._

_A long-toothed face, with quivering whiskers and welcoming smile raises before him a newborn white-furred Skaven. It has small embryos of horns not on its forehead, but on its temples. A voice gloats: "Hey! A chosen-chosen one! Oh, he seems tireless!"_

_Another cry. Squawking._

_Black._

_A huge city amidst a lush jungle. Lizards by thousands, bipedal creatures with scaly skin. A huge humanoid reptile sitting on a stone throne._

_Black._

_Rivers of blood. Skaven skinned alive by dozens. A White Skaven with straight horns facing forward out of his temples, firmly attached to a stone wall, cursing an obese bipedal frog. The same Seer fleeing into the jungle._

_Black._

_Heavy breathing. A cry of pain followed by an unappetizing gurgling sound._

_A chorus of wailing, screeching. Small newborn Skaven, shoving each other to suckle the flabby breasts of their layer eagerly.A reptilian hiss. Two wide split-pupilled eyes, like those of a snake._

_Black._

_The form of a monstrously big humanoid toad, wrapped in old strips of material, wearing an enormous circular mask of solid gold. The empty eyes of the mask light up and become bigger and bigger and over again. There is the background sound of drumming, incomprehensible singing..._

_Black._

_A mansion on a hill of dry grass and dusty land. A flagstands, its armorial bearings include a rat. Men-things in a courtyard are cheering someone. Then, without transition, a small Skaven, looking sad, wearing a finely wrought jacket, asks timidly:_

_- Do I... disappoint you?_

- Psody? Hey, bro?

Psody opened his eyes at once. He was lying on his side, naked, curled up on himself, trembling to the end of his tail. Unimaginable suffering was tearing his bowels. He felt dizzy, his temples were undermined by a pain so radiating that he had tears in his eyes. His limbs were frozen, his fur standing up like if he had goose bumps. He heard the loud voice of Chitik.

- You okay?

He raised his head painfully and resting on his hands, managed to lift his shoulders up, unable to do more. The two females were wallowed in a corner of the cell, snoring loudly. He saw his brother's black-furred face looking at him.

- Psody, how are you? Are you feeling pain-pain?

- Ourgh... Do... do not worry. It... it will pass.

The Black Skaven moved his paws gently under the arms of the apprentice, and helped him to his feet. Then he picked up his robe, and tossed it over his skinny shoulders.

- Thank you... my brother.

- Hey, you're the smartest of the litter, you're the chosen-chosen one of the Horned Rat... and you're my favourite brother. Don't want you to peg out!

Psody was still trembling, had still dizziness, but the pain slowly faded. He then turned his head towards the big Black Skaven, and his pink eyes blinked.

- I think... I think Vellux didn't tell us everything, brother.


	2. Elevation

A large circular platform had been erected in the middle of the largest intersection of the colony. Torches attached at regular intervals along the circumference lit up the Skaven coming and going with their flickering flames. Everyone could attend the ceremony or pass the way, provided that there was no disturbance. Also, there were around thirty onlookers gathered on the lawn. On stage, two groups could be made out. Five young and rather intimidated Skaven formed the first, and facing them, Grey Seer Vellux, supreme authority of Brissuc, was waiting, assisted by two Skaven henchmen wearing dresses. One carried a copper tray on which laid a long rusty knife, the other held a small iron cauldron filled with water. Behind the servants stood a rather old Skaven wearing a black dress, a large face-scarred Black Skaven, a stocky Skaven with an apron and pockets full of tools, and a dark-coated Skaven with a black cape and hood.

The Grey Seer raised his hands, turned his eyes toward the ceiling.

- Oh, Horned Rat, you can be delighted. Today, five of your children are now able to serve you as they should. As required by our custom, they shall now introduce themselves!

Then he returned to the five brothers. He gestured toward the elder, the biggest and strongest. The latter gulped and stepped forward, then knelt before the Grey Seer, looking down. Vellux asked in a loud voice:

- Who are you?

- I am Chitik, a Mighty Black Skaven, the other replied. I am ... I am the arm of the Horned Rat. My black coat aspires – err, _inspires_ the fear of death.

The Black Skaven had trouble finding all the words of his introduction. Grey Seer Vellux was not offended, and continued:

- Why were you born?

- To... to crush all enemies of the superior race! To destroy-destroy everything that does not please the Horned Rat!

He took a breath, and waited anxiously, watching for any sign from one or other of the elders of the colony, particularly his chief, Clawleader Furghân. But none reacted. Finally, with a hand sign, Vellux invited Chitik to get up. After that, he snapped his fingers. The worshipper with the knife on his board walked forward. The Grey Seer picked up the blade, and approached the Black Skaven. He took the left ear of the young Skaven in the clutches of his free hand, stretched it, and made three small incisions on his earlobe – one long, one short, one long. He lowered his dagger, and murmured:

- So may those who perish under your blows be numerous, Chitik the Mighty!

Chitik bowed his head respectfully and stepped back, while Vellux washed the dagger in the bowl held by the second servant. Then Diassyon, the brown Skaven, advanced in turn, under the eye of his teacher. He knelt and bowed his head and Vellux again asked the ritual question:

- Who are you?

- I am Diassyon, and I serve the Clan Skryre. I'm the arms of a collective intelligence that animates the entire Clan. Thanks to technology, Skaven prove they are indeed superior to all other peoples, including and especially those who fiercely deny it!

Without naming them, the Skirmisher had alluded to dwarfs-things, the secular enemies of the sons of the Horned Rat. The Grey Seer then asked:

- Why were you born?

The brown Skaven raised his head, and his red eyes shone with a feverish glow.

- Over time, we managed to tame the warpstone. We have developed powerful weapons to kill the inferior races. We have learned to move faster. We even figured out how to talk to others despite the long distances. I want to help the Clan Skryre to do more, and I will!

Vellux nodded slowly with a little pout, then notched the ear of the young Skryre the same way as he had his elder brother.

- Technology is not everything, Diassyon of Clan Skryre, but it can be the key to victory.

Klur was the next one. He knelt before the Grey Seer.

- Who are you?

- I am Klur, Night Runner of Clan Eshin.

- Why were you born?

Klur squinted, reducing his eyes to two narrow slits. He murmured in a honeyed voice:

- Men-things have experienced a huge wave of terror on the day that Grand Master Assassin Snikch executed their reincarnated god. An Assassin can send a kingdom to ruin by killing-killing the right elements. I shall overthrow the Empire of the men-things by cutting off its head, for the glory of the Horned Rat!

Vellux gave a little chuckle. Still smiling, he made three small nicks on the left ear of the anthracite Skaven.

- May the strongest of our enemies tremble in fear while waiting for your blade, Klur of Clan Eshin!

The Plague Monk, Moly, got into position before the Grey Seer. He felt Plague Deacon Soum watching him closely, which made him uncomfortable.

- Who are you?

- I am Moly of Clan Pestilens, replied the cream-coloured young Skaven in a drawl. I am a craftsman at the service of the Horned Rat, and serve his will.

- Why were you born?

- To reshape the upper world in the way of the Horned Rat, so that us, his children, we can spread, and completely dominate.

Grey Seer nodded. Moly was left with the three small marks of the colony Brissuc.

- The Horned Rat trusts your judgment, Moly of Clan Pestilens.

Moly bowed and stepped back.

All eyes turned to the youngest. Psody felt intimidated. Extra weight was weighing on his shoulders due to his very nature and his direct contact with their god, and he knew it. But he decided to move forward in turn. His master seemed more troubling than ever.

- Who are you?

- I am Psody, a White Skaven... I am your servant, and the servant of the Horned Rat.

Vellux leaned forward. His eyes glittered more brightly. He said, in a voice so deep it was almost frightening:

- Why were you born?

- To... to... to transmit the sacred word of the Horned Rat. His words guide the people of Skaven, and his magic destroys his enemies. I am... his most humble servant. I was born to serve him... to serve you, my master.

The Grey Seer stretched his lips into a indefinable grin. He slowly pulled the ear of his disciple. Psody gritted his teeth when he felt the steel bite his flesh, but remained stoic. Two more bites, and it was over. He had become a true citizen of Brissuc.

- May those who hear you hear only the Horned Rat. May those who suffer your anger only see the will of the Horned Rat. May those who follow you be blessed by the Horned Rat.

Psody bowed his head, and returned to his place. Instinctively, he approached Chitik. Vellux put his dagger on the tray, and gestured to the two henchmen who came down from the dais. Then the Grey Seer said to the four masters.

- Henceforth, your pupils are true Skaven. Be satisfied as long as they satisfy the Horned Rat. Now, go all in peace.

The Deacon, the Warlock Engineer, the Master Assassin and the Clawleader left the stage in turn. The five brothers looked at each other, and at the Grey Seer.

- I grant you a day off. Spend it as you please. Tomorrow, your teachers shall give you your new instructions. It is time for you to take your rightful place in your respective clans.

He called over the small White Skaven.

- Psody, before that, follow me, I have to talk to you.

Psody obeyed his master, while the others separated.

Both White Skaven headed towards Vellux's lab.

- I'm glad the five of you. You and your brothers have done well today.

- Oh, you are too generous, generous highness of the generosity personified.

- However, remember you are not a Grey Seer yet. You're now an adult Skaven, you have rights and duties, and you can claim spoils of war and breeders. But to become a Grey Seer, you shall perform one last task.

- Which one, my kind and farseeing master?

Still walking, Vellux was silent for a little while before explaining:

- Prove you have retained my teachings and know how apply them.

- How?

- Tomorrow, you'll return to the surface, to a place I'll show you. There, you'll see something you've probably never seen.

- What? What, my master?

The Grey Seer stopped, and put his hand on the shoulder of his disciple.

- An abomination of the forest.

- The… forest?

- Yes. You must have seen a forest last night, during your assault on Niklasweiler. It is inhabited by a spook that has recently installed itself there. Men-things have erected a little shrine for it on the edge of the woods.

- A shrine? Psody repeated.

- Its presence is an insult to the Horned Rat, whistled Vellux. You'll get rid of this obscenity, and spread the magic of the Warp in its place in the glade! Only then you will be a true Grey Seer.

Psody nodded slowly. Both resumed their journey.

- Will I go alone, my master?

- No, you are still young and inexperienced. This spirit is not very powerful, but it can cause you real problems. You'll choose two Skaven whose abilities are most useful according to you. Remember though that you are the only one who can banish the influence of this spirit.

- I won't return without having accomplished my task, farseer of farseers!

The Grey Seer had a wicked smile.

- No risk.

Three unlikely silhouettes appeared between the trees. In front, the curved shape of a medium-sized Skaven advanced on tiptoe, watching. He was followed by a particularly big strong Skaven, who carried on his back a little horned one. The one ahead asked:

- I'm very happy-happy you chose me, but why me?

- Not so loud, you moron! We must not wake the forest spirit. Chitik, let me down.

The Black Skaven stopped and squatted. Psody jumped down, and turned to his other brother.

- It's true, Klur might have been more appropriate for this task. But he doesn't smell good. And you're smarter than he is. Now, shut up! We'll approach in silence. Not a sound!

Diassyon of Clan Skryre nodded, and went back to the front, followed by his two brothers, taking care not to crack any dead branch. Even the great Chitik walked silently, despite his size. However, the White Skaven could still hear a low regular rattling which annoyed him.

- Were you forced to take all this stuff?

- I don't have Chitik's strength or your powers. I have to be useful in my own way!

Indeed, Diassyon was wearing a whole arsenal: a knife attached to his hip, two warplock pistols tucked into his belt, and a Skaven musket, called "warplock jezzail", tied to his back with a leather strap. Above all he wanted to test his first invention, a new kind of miniature warpfire thrower, small enough to be worn by a single Skaven. He held the conical end of the hose firmly, this was connected to a cylindrical copper tank held up by braces.

- For your sake I hope it'll help! Now, let us be silent! We're approaching.

Diassyon acquiesced with a nod, and walked on tiptoe. Suddenly, he stopped and raised a hand. Psody joined him.

- What? whispered the White Skaven.

- Listen-listen!

Psody and Chitik listened. Then the apprentice Grey Seer heard something. He had never heard such a sound. It was like a complaint, a kind of litany without any sensible words, but rising, then descending in a pattern in a logic that escaped sharp intellect of the White Skaven. He felt odd, as if this sound was acting directly upon his emotions. He shook his head vigorously, and motioned to his two brothers to move forward again.

On tiptoe, all three finally reached a wide glade. It was a space where there were no large trees and few shrubs. High in the clear sky, the moon was diffusing light so that it gave a supernatural atmosphere. Psody felt well, this place was bathed in magic. Strange luminous insects flew over a pond of clear water. Colourful plants were growing in bushes. A flowering tree was overhanging the polished surface of the water. At the foot of the tree, the three Skaven saw something that immediately caught their attention.

Kneeling in front of the tree, a man-thing had its back turned. No garment covered its bronzed skin. The melody came from it. Its form was that of a fairly young female. But unlike the slaves captured by the veterans of Brissuc, its cranial fur wasn't made of hair, but green foliage. The White Skaven felt the winds of magic waving around this apparition. Without a doubt, they had just met the spirit of the forest.

Chitik snapped his tongue to get the attention of his young brother. As the latter turned his head towards him, he mimed the action of throwing a weapon in the direction of the fairy-thing. Psody agreed with a nod. The Black Skaven took the heavy spear attached to his belt delicately between his fingers, aimed carefully at the creature, and threw it with a sharp movement of his arm. The spear sped straight to the fairy-thing-in a quiet whirring air, and landed on the grass.

The three Skaven opened their eyes wide in surprise. Chitik should have reached his target's back easily... but it had completely disappeared a heartbeat away before impact. The song had also stopped. Suddenly, a bright and amused laugh rang through the glade. The Dryad was sitting on a big stone near the pond, and was merrily giggling. The Black Skaven ran toward it, arms open wide to crush it against his chest. He jumped on it, but it disappeared at the last moment, he hit the stone with full force. He gasped, as his ribs were bruised. Laughter sounded again.

Diassyon nimbly drew his two warplock pistols. He slowly scanned the glade, ready to fire. In the corner of his eye he say the copper and emerald colours of the fairy-thing on his right, he reached out and pulled the trigger in one movement. The warpstone bullet whistled and penetrated the trunk of a tree. The Skryre was startled by hearing the Dryad whooping behind him. He turned with a bound and opened fire with the other gun. The Dryad faded again with a loud laugh.

The little White Skaven wrinkled his nose.

_You think you're __clever__, __but__ now, __experience the magic __of the Warp__!_

He saw the fairy-thing sat on a tree branch, a few yards over the ground. It chortled at the stunned look on Diassyon's face. Psody smiled wickedly. It wasn't paying any attention to him, and this error would be its last. He slowly raised his hand, the three fingers forward, as he felt something wrapping around his ankles. In less than a second, he found himself hanging upside down, his rags rolled up on his face. He realised he was being held by tender branches.

- Get me out of here!

Chitik rushed. He took the vines in his big hands and cut them off with a bite. The young White Skaven fell head first and was planted in the ground by his horns. He snarled and barked with rage a flood of very pictorial insults at his older brother. Chitik took the White Skaven gently by the waist, and pulled, uprooted him, then reversed him and laid him on the grass.

The laughter of the Dryad became even stronger, more mocking. The White Skaven was totally upset. Very angry, he stamped and spit:

- I swear I will crush you, fairy-thing!

Then he sat down on a small mound of clay, and covered his face with both hands, about to weep with rage. More than his body, it was his pride that had been wounded. Chitik leaned toward him.

- Hey, don't despair!

- I am not worthy of Vellux!

- Wait, you think he would have sent you here if this task was too easy-easy? This is a test, this is normal, Diassyon judged. This creature has to have a weakness. All we need to do is find it!

Psody lifted his reddened eyes towards the Skryre.

- You may be right. So far, this fairy-thing plays with us because it is sure to win. But if we manage to make it lose his cool... we can beat it.

- What did Vellux tell you about fairy-things?

Chitik picked up his spear. The White Skaven stood up, and concentrated.

- They are linked to where they live. Not only the forest, but one particular corner especially. As here!

- So, if something wrong ever happened to this glade... Diassyon suggested.

The young apprentice had a cruel smile.

- Diassyon?

- Yes, brother? replied the other with the same smile.

He pointed to the tree in bloom.

- Set fire to these twigs!

The brown Skaven chuckled softly and grabbed the tube of his device. He turned a small dial on the side of the tank, which caused a slight hiss. A small cloud of steam escaped from the exhaust pipe. Diassyon pointed the cone toward the tree, and pulled the trigger. Immediately a torrent of green flames burst and struck his target with full force. The tree caught fire instantly, and soon the whole clearing was illuminated by the flickering and strange lights of the warpstone fire.

A terrible cry echoed over the three Skaven. The Dryad reappeared, but it was no longer in a playful mood. On the contrary, a great anger distorted its delicate face. It rushed to the small White Skaven who drew his dagger from his belt and brandished it.

- I'm gonna skin-skin you, fairy-thing!

In a second, the forest spirit transformed. The frail young creature covered with hard and cracked bark, its facial features solidified, and its limbs became broad and as large as branches. The Dryad swept the air with its arm, and Psody was thrown a few yards away with incredible force. He hit the ground hard, and felt a sharp pain in his chin. He had lost his weapon.

Diassyon pointed the cone of his flamethrower at the creature. He was about to spread the warpstone fire once again when he heard a chorus of chirps and whistles over his head. Dozens of small birds, insects, squirrels, rabbits and other animals rushed upon him and attacked him on all sides. The critters pulled his facial hair, tried to put out his eyes, poured under his tunic to bite him. In a reflex movement, he released the handle and waved his arms frantically.

- Aw! Ouch! Go away! You nuisances!

A young deer emerged from the forest and rushed headlong at him. It rammed the Skryre, sent him rolling on the grass.

Surprised by such truculence from the nature, Chitik hesitated on what to do. He soon recovered his spirits when he saw the fairy-thing attacking Psody. He gave a thundering sound and ran to the rescue. He twirled his weapon with large spins, ready to strike. The Dryad turned to him, and struck the ground with its feet. Its woody toes dug into the land. In an instant, a multitude of thorns grew in front of the Black Skaven. The great warrior was unable to stop in time, and found himself entangled in flexible vines covered with spines. He struggled, but only succeeded in entangling himself more.

Psody was still on the ground. He tried to get away by crawling to the grass. The Dryad grabbed him by the tail and lifted him, before whipping his back and hindquarters hard with its free hand.

Diassyon smelled a strong and toxic odour, the fuel of his warpfire thrower. The deer had pulled the hose off from the tank, making it unusable. Furious, the Skaven unfastened the straps, grabbed the cylinder with both hands and ran towards the animal. The deer returned to the attack. The Skryre held the tank in his arms like a battering ram. As the metal mass hit the skull of the deer, it split it up and down. But the young ratman had little time to savour his victory, as the small animals attacked him again.

Chitik screamed in frustration seeing the fairy-thing maltreating his brother. He closed his eyes, curled up as much as he could, then jumped forward. The thorns lacerated his skin, but he managed to free himself. He picked up his spear, and sprang at the Dryad with a diagonal swing of his weapon. The metal spear head penetrated the hip of the forest spirit, with the same sound as an axe into a tree trunk, and wood chips flew. The creature stopped, and sounded a long and low moan which made the hearts of the Skaven shiver. It released Psody who rolled away on his side. Then it folded its arms, and struck a terrible backhand at the Black Skaven who was thrown against an oak.

The White Skaven looked up. His vision was blurred and he couldn't hear very clearly either. He saw the Dryad extract the spear from its body. It seemed greatly weakened by the injury, and returned to its original frail female form in a few moments. Bright green blood ran down its thigh. It would probably not live long. The young ratman saw on its face that it was determined to take him with it. It slowly approached, raising its trembling hands.

- Psody! cried the voice of Diassyon on his left.

Panicked, the White Skaven turned his head toward his brother. He had managed to approach, despite the onslaught of birds. He had wrapped his tail around his warplock jezzail. The Skryre flicked his tail and sent his firearm at the Grey Seer apprentice. Psody held out his hands, and caught the musket. The Dryad was only two feet away, ready to strangle him. He only just had time to aim the gun at it and pulled the trigger.

The jezzail barked and the deadly warpstone volley burst the abdomen of the fairy-thing. Instead of bending forward, it reared back, holding its head with both hands. Once again, the Skaven heard a terrible wail that seemed to reverberate between the trees all around. Brambles wilted. Animals on Diassyon died. And the forest spirit fell on its back.

Psody leaned on the musket to get up. He saw the unfortunate fairy-thing lying on the grass, and couldn't help chuckling under his breath. He retrieved his dagger and ran to his victim. He squatted just above her, and asked with a revenging smile:

- So, no more laughing? No more playing?

The Dryad had tears in its eyes. On its face Psody could see not only the pain of the injury, but also a great sadness that went well beyond that. It laboriously managed to articulate two syllables. Psody was thunderstruck as he understood:

_What for?_

Inconceivable. For him, it was simply impossible, ridiculous that the fairy-thing might ask a question whose answer was so obvious. And this lack of faith caused a violent explosion of anger in him. He raised his dagger and shouted with all his might, looking to the sky:

- For the Horned Rat!

And with a quick movement, he planted the rusty blade directly into the heart of the Dryad. It winced again in suffering and despair for many seconds, and then finally moved no more. Psody withdrew his knife, put it away in his holster and looked at his hands covered with warm and green blood.

For the first time in his life he had killed someone.

This thought stunned him, then he felt an exhilarating feeling of omnipotence growing in him. He, the little White Skaven, physically weak, inexperienced, had the power to kill beings that seemed stronger than he was. Indeed, he was a chosen one of the Horned Rat. He looked at his fingers still, unable to think of anything else. A violent cracking noise pulled him out of his reverie. He looked down and saw that the Dryad was transforming. Its skin solidified, the leaves on its head browned, withered and fell. Within seconds, the fairy-thing was just a piece of dry wood.

He got up, stepped back, and spat on the remains of the Dryad.

- And voila! I've won, and you're dead!

He turned to the Black Skaven.

- Chitik! Hurl this old branch into the fire!

- Yes, brother!

- It will be one with the earth, definitely! Diassyon quipped, before bursting into laughter.

Chitik picked up the old stump with one hand, lifted it and threw it into the flames with a single movement. It caught fire in an instant.

Psody raised his arms.

- My brothers, you've done well! Without you, I wouldn't have succeeded. But now I have to accomplish a feat only a Grey Seer can perform. Stand back.

Both Skaven nodded, and ran to the edge of the glade. The small White Skaven stood alone in the centre of the cleared area. He knelt down, closed his eyes and joined his hands over his heart.

He made a void in his mind. Background noises were gradually smothered by his will. He remembered the lessons of Vellux and focused more.

_The __Horned Rat __hates __the current face __of __the surface world__. __Our duty is to __redefine it __according to his will. __And __the most powerful force __we have is his __anger__. __His __rage toward __this insolent world__. __We__, __the Grey Seers__, __are here to __unleash __the wrath __of the Horned Rat__._

Psody felt his face gradually start twitching. The beat of his heart progressively quickened. He thought he heard increasingly strong Skaven yelps. He visualised violent battle scenes. Dwarf-things, green-things, men-things, half-things were falling before the omnipotence of the Sons of the Horned Rat.

The White Skaven let a single long syllable out of his lips. Around him, a slight breeze sprang up. He clenched his hands on his chest, and bared his gritted teeth. Away from him, his two brothers worried when they saw his face twisting under the influence of such strong emotion. The apprentice got up slowly. Rage emanated from his intestines, and gripped his heart in its burning claws. The wind around him turned into a tornado, and Diassyon clearly saw green sparks crackling around his young brother.

Psody threw his head back with a wild growl, and stretched his arms to his sides. Immediately, a swirl of green flashes whirled around the small White Skaven, widening more and more to fully swallow the glade. Then thunder broke, trees collapsed, and then everything stopped.

A terrifying silence fell upon the forest. Chitik and Diassyon were silent both through fear and admiration. The entire perimeter had been ransacked. The grass had become black, the plants were burning with green flames, and the lake had dried up. On the ground, calcified birds. And in the centre, the small White Skaven wavered before falling back. The Black Skaven leapt forward and was beside him in two strides, followed by Diassyon.

- Psody? Psody?

- Hey, brother! Wake up!

Psody painfully opened his eyes and saw the faces of his two brothers leaning towards him. Both Skaven lifted and set him upright. The White Skaven looked at his two brothers, one after the other, and gave a little smile, which became a laugh, which he shared with them. The three Skaven eventually laughed out loud together, slapping each other's arms to congratulate each other. Psody climbed once again on the back of the Black Skaven, and the three brothers departed to their burrow, leaving behind the dead area.

As he saw the light beam coming down from the aperture sixty feet above him, Diassyon realised that the day had dawned. Sat on the wet ground, he was looking up dreamily.

- So what?

The Skryre immediately recognized the drawl, issued from the noxious throat of his brother Moly. The Plague Monk approached, limping.

- Ah, Diassyon... Watching the outside again!

- I don't get bored. It's so pretty-pretty! I can't wait for the day we can live there.

- You're always distracted, aren't you?

- Hey, I'm a Skryre, this is not distraction, but ambition. The ambition to ascend above the others.

Moly giggled.

- Don't ascend too much, you could crash on one of the two moons...

- And feed on cheese for the rest of my life! What a joy!

Moly looked at the light.

- Ah, there is the sun-sun outside.

- I'd like to see the sun. You think Vellux will let us go out during the day?

- Maybe. We are true Skaven now. But we must always work for the superior race. We're made to stay in the shadows. The sun isn't for us. Come on! We have to go.

Diassyon got up and followed the Plague Monk.

- What do you think he'll feel?

- Don't know.

- In his place, I'd be troubled. I hope he'll be fine.

The Plague Monk stopped and stared at the Skirmisher.

- You should avoid taking care of him too much.

- Hey, he's still our brother!

- No. We're all children of the Horned Rat. He considers us all in the same way, and we don't have to feel closer to one Skaven in particular. We shouldn't even have found out about our relationship.

- Bah, he's a chosen-chosen one!

- Not yet, as long as he hasn't proved it. Skahl died because he erred. I don't regret him. And this will be the same for today. He'll do the right thing, otherwise he'll die! The Horned Rat doesn't like the weak.

- But... and Chitik?

- Chitik doesn't need to think. His role is to obey orders. As for you, you better take care of your own tail instead of others'!

Meanwhile, deep in the colony, a young Skaven was even more nervous than usual.

_Vellux explained the whole thing to me, everything should be fine…_

Psody was waiting anxiously at a heavy door with the triangular symbol of the Horned Rat. He stood before the holy of holies, the Temple of the Horned Rat of Brissuc. It was undoubtedly the most impressive building of the entire underground city. It was not a simple landscaped cave, but a real edifice built of odds and ends with a multitude of material stolen from men-things, dwarf-things, green-things... even elf-things. A dozen arrows rose in all directions, none were the same height as each another. At the centre climbed the thirteenth steeple, a huge bell tower.

The White Skaven knocked three times. The doors opened with a big creak. He crossed the threshold, and shuddered when he heard a harsh slam behind him.

He was in a long, dark corridor and felt a carpet plagued by mould under his feet. On the columns of arch support, globes of light created a bizarre illumination and emitted small crackles and shrill whistles. Skryre technology had invaded the whole construction. There were along the way bas-reliefs depicting scenes of fierce battles between Skaven and many other peoples.

Down the hall, double doors led to the large prayer hall, where Grey Seer Vellux used to officiate masses in honour of the Horned Rat. But Psody didn't enter this, instead he veered towards a smaller door on his right. He entered through it, and found himself in an antechamber lit by rare lights. His sense of smell perceived a strong odour of incense. There was a brazier before him. He made out a platform at the other end of the room with a pulpit and a large armchair stolen from men-things, covered with partially punctured leather.

He heard the great bell ringing through the walls. Other Skaven were soon to come into the prayer room. His eyes gazed at the lit brazier. He remembered the instructions of his master. A whole symbol.

He swallowed his saliva, and untied the knots that held together the tissues of his black rags one by one, dropping them down. He picked them up, and threw them in the brazier. They burned in seconds. He found himself naked and alone before the fire, not knowing what to do. He thought he heard a murmur, and footsteps. The first true-hearted were settling. All this put him uncomfortable. He decided to kneel down, folded his hands over his nose, closed his eyes and prayed silently. Behind the walls, the hubbub was growing with the number of Skaven.

After an indefinable time, he heard a satisfied chuckle, before him. Opening his eyes, he realised he wasn't alone. Grey Seer Vellux was sitting in the chair.

- Approach-approach, my child, Vellux ordered.

Obediently, Psody got up, walked round the brazier and stopped before his master. The Grey Seer left his seat, opened a box lid, and pulled out a worn, light grey dress.

- You are now no longer an apprentice. You have earned the right to represent the Horned Rat as a Grey Seer.

Psody raised his hands without a word, and Vellux made him put this new dress on. As he was dressed, the young White Skaven looked at himself hesitantly. Vellux smiled a disturbing smile.

- I too was intimidated when I was in your place. But Grey Seer Thanquol assured me I could be confident. Today, I assure you the same thing. Now it's time for you to prove to the colony you are worthy to provide the word of the Horned Rat.

Vellux stepped down from the platform and headed to a side door he opened. He invited Psody to cross. The young ratman guessed it led to the main prayer hall, and went through it. He climbed a wooden staircase with crumbling steps. As he reached the summit, he was welcomed by a huge amount of cheering.

Psody was on a six foot high scaffolding. Before him were all the members of the colony, sat on the dusty ground, applauding. To the side, two acolytes bearing trinkets and gowns began to beat huge drums in rhythm with skull-tipped sticks. A third one rang a large bell with his iron hammer. A roar burst over the head of the young ratman. It was a fire that lit the whole room, which came from the mouth of a huge statue of a Skaven with long thin limbs, with two pairs of horns – two twisted, two straight.

_The __Horned Rat __is greeting me..._

Clouds of smoke hovered in the room, intermittently lit up the by the green glows. Psody didn't see them, but his four brothers were amongst the public. Diassyon and Moly were sat side by side. The Skryre sneered.

- What pride! Our little brother is going to become so great!

- You said it, brother. You think it will give us benefits?

- Ah, so finally you're interested? quipped the brown Skaven.

The Plague Monk was actually under the effect of a warpstone euphoric he had smoked before entering the temple, which had greatly improved his mood.

- Yep. In fact, I hadn't thought about it this morning, but having a Grey Seer with the same blood as us, it could bring us a lot-lot, all things considered.

- What are you thinking about?

Plague Monk was silent a moment, then chuckled:

- Mountains of warpstone incense!

And two brothers went into a roar of laughter, pushing each other.

The White Skaven was on the middle of the stage, undecided. He felt so tiny in front of this crowd. He, the youngest, smallest, weakest of his litter, was also the only White Skaven to come into the world since the foundation of this colony led by Vellux. It was both intimidating... and really exhilarating. He turned, and saw that his master had followed him. Vellux stood at his side, and raised his arms, demanding the crowd to be quiet.

- Sons of the Horned Rat, I have the great pleasure to introduce you your new Grey Seer. The new voice of our God, after mine!

The Skaven screamed with joy, clapped and giggled. Vellux put his hand on the shoulder of the young Psody.

- Kneel, he ordered.

The young ratman obeyed. His master continued:

- Close your eyes, and lift your nose!

Again, Psody followed the instructions of the Grey Seer. Vellux drew a encrusted warpstone blade dagger of its sheath and slashed his own arm. Dark red blood dripped from his flesh. He lifted his wrist above Psody's head. Brown spots soiled the white fur of his forehead. He had a little nervous tic, but didn't move over. Vellux spoke in a loud voice.

- You are henceforth bound to me by my blood. You will obey only me, and nobody else. And apart from me, your master, and the Council of Thirteen, everyone will bow to your authority, and no one has the right to contest it.

He smeared the face of his disciple with his blood.

- Now, arise and look at me.

The young ratman again did what Vellux asked.

- It's time for you to see the world as it really is.

Vellux gestured, and a servant arrived, carrying a bronze tray on which there was a huge warpstone nugget. The luminescent green crystal pulsed at regular intervals. The Grey Seek took it gently, squeezed it hardly between his long fingers and broke a large walnut-sized piece from it. He proffered the small share of warpstone to his disciple.

- Open your mind to the word of the Horned Rat. Accept his present.

Psody hesitated. For the first time in his life, he would taste the sacred substance upon which the whole Skaven society was built on. He knew it was toxic, excessive amounts could be fatal. But it was also the key to the power, the cornerstone linking Grey Seers to the Horned Rat. He picked up the warpstone nugget. Vellux nodded with a mysterious smile. The young ratman breathed deeply, opened his mouth, and placed the fragment of ore on his tongue. He swallowed it at once.

The Skaven resumed their cheers even louder. Vellux applauded too, very slowly. However, Psody didn't feel any difference, or change. A few long seconds passed. As the young ratman was about to ask for an explanation from his master, he felt a violent pain in his stomach. He was seized with a coughing, and vomited black bile. Vellux went behind him, put his hands on his shoulders and whispered in his ear:

- Don't worry. The first time is a little surprising.

He threw his head back and laughed, while his disciple fell to his knees. He belched a greenish vapour. The Skaven laughed, squealed and whistled louder. Grey Seer Vellux exclaimed:

- Glory to the Horned Rat!

- Glory to the Horned Rat! the crowd repeated.

- Glory to the warpstone!

- Glory to the warpstone!

- Glory to Psody, our new Grey Seer!

- Glory to Psody! Glory to Psody!

The whole colony exulted in joy. Even Klur, who didn't like his little brother yet, eventually get caught up in the movement. Seeing the young White Skaven on all fours, his eyes rolled back, amused him as ever. There was nothing but passionate excitement amongst everyone. The bell rang louder, the drums became more rapid and fiery plumes of smoke gushed from the nostrils and the eyes of the statue.

Amid all the crowd of ratmen, one single remained motionless and silent. It was Chitik. His face was not showing any joy, only a puzzled and worried expression. His low level of intellect led him to interpret the scene in a completely different way. Vomiting, loss of balance, then this hiccup, these many small clues showed him what it really felt like for his younger brother. He got up and tried to speak louder than others.

- No, no! Wait! He's feeling pain-pain! He's not happy-happy!

The Skaven screeched with joy, grinning with satisfaction. Chitik got scared and panicked.

- Stop-stop! He's fragile! He may be sick-sick! He may die!

But nobody listened, and the cries were growing stronger, while on the platform, Psody was holding his stomach, clenched on himself. The Black Skaven smelled the musk of rage released by all his glands.

- STOP IT!

He knocked his neighbour to the side, stunning him. Then he tried to run towards the scene, throwing all Skaven on his path out of the way. Some protested and rose, annoyed, waving their fists.

- PSODY!

Psody's senses were more and more stifled by the warpstone. He barely felt anything while he was convulsing on the scene, lying at full length. There was nothing but a vast chaos, with furtive images, a tide of vermin, an odious mocking and a concert of sneers. He heard nothing but a long litany composed of hundreds of shrill voices. He was about to pass out, as a big voice distinguished itself from the rest.

- Psody! Hold on! The Horned Rat has chosen you, my brother! Resist-resist! Show him you're worthy! Do it for him! Do it for me, brother!

The White Skaven recognized with surprise the voice speaking to him. He gathered his strength to lift his head, and discerned a bulk approaching, before being stopped by three large Black Skaven.

_Chitik__? __What's wrong with you?_

He had no time to think more. An explosion of pain irradiated his brain, hurled him back, into the black hole.

_As he opened his __eyes__, __he realised __he was no longer __in the __ceremony room__, __but __on a hill__. __Or rather __a high plateau __over a __rock __quarry__. __Around him __there were __Skaven__, __watching __below. __Psody __approached the edge__, __nobody __seemed to __notice him. __As he looked__, he saw __a procession of__ dwarf-__things __gathered around a strange __apparatus__. __They were too __far away for the __young __White __Skaven __to __see exactly __what they were doing. __He then heard __an angry yelp __on __his left__. __He __turned on his heel__, __and __felt his __eyes widen __in surprise__._

_- Master__?_

_Near him __stood a __White Skaven__. __He was __rather tall__, __and slim __without being __skinny. __His horns were __curled on themselves __like__ those of __a ram__, __and under his __hood only __his nose __was __in the open air__. __Bone __trinkets __hung __under __the red cape __he __wore over __his __grey frieze__. __He was leaning __on __a __pretty impressive __device__. __Psody __remembered __that Clan Skryre engineers __had__designed __this object__, __an improved version __of the telescope__. __And this White __Skaven __cursed with rage._

_- Those pesky __intruders again__! __The __Horned Rat __decided to __damn me__!_

_- Master__, is this you?_

_No,__it wasn't __Vellux__, although __his voice __reminded __him __that of his mentor__. __He didn't __seem to have __heard __Psody__, he was __too focused on __his telescope__. __He stepped back __and called__:_

_- Boneripper__! __Come here__-__here!_

Boneripper? _Psody __thought__._ But then...

_As if he had __finally __spotted __his presence__, the tall __Grey Seer __paused__, __and cast a __glance __over his __shoulder__. __Psody __focused more__, collecting his __memories __on __the __recurring __names __in the history __of the Sons __of the Horned Rat__. __Then __his __eyes met __those __of the __White __Skaven__, __and this disturbing __glare made him increasingly __uncomfortable__._

This Grey Seer would be...

_Without __warning__, __the young ratman __found himself in__ a very different __place__. __A lush forest __with huge __trees__, exotic plants up__on which __colourful birds __perched__. __He saw __a __city made of __white stone __not far from him__. __And just __before him __stood __another __White __Skaven__. __He __was just a bit __taller than him__, __and __had rather __short horns__, __coming out of __his temples __to point __directly forward__. __Contrary to custom__, __he was not wearing __a grey dress__, __but __a__ coat made of __coloured feathers,__with __a __spotted __fur cape __over his shoulders._

I recognise this White Skaven. This is not the first time I see him.

_The__ White __Skaven __smiled __a friendly smile __and __held out his arms __toward him__._

_- Ah__, __my friend__! __What a pleasure __to see you again!_

_Psody __realised that this greeting wasn't __addressed __to him__, __but to someone __behind him__. __He __turned__, __and be held __a strange __creature__. __A kind of __giant scaly skinned toad__, __who __was __barely__ standing __on its arched legs__. __It __was bigger than __the other __White Skaven__, __and __much wider__. __It __didn't seem __as __pleased to see him__. __Other __individuals__ with lizard characteristics __approached__, __surrounding__ the caped ratman__, who __stopped smiling._

_- But... what __does this mean__?_

_Two __lizards __firmly __gripped __the __White __Skaven__. __The toad __opened __his big mouth __and __said, in a __hollow voice__:_

_- Sorry...__my friend__._

_A __third __huge__ lizard-being popped __up behind __the __White __Skaven__, and __hit him__ with __such a __blow to __his skull__ that __he __was instantly __knocked out__. __The world __around __Psody overbalanced__. __He found himself __on the floor__, his eyes turned __toward the sky__, __and he saw __above __him __the massive __face __of the __toad __watching him __carefully._

Psody opened his eyes painfully. He was trembling. His head was about to explode. He had the feeling that all his organs were upside down. He felt worse than after his first mating. On second thought, he didn't remember having experienced such a suffering in all his young life.

He didn't understand. The warpstone should open his eyes wider, make him see the world more clearly, help him to understand new concepts... but he had never thought it would be such a torture. And it hadn't developed his senses, on the contrary. As if, instead of waking him, the experience had put him in a heavy torpor during which he had never been so vulnerable.

How long had his delusions lasted? Did someone take advantage of his weakness to maltreat him? Or worse? Indeed, the pain wasn't only physical, this time. It was more penetrating, he had the impression of having been bruised in the depths of his being. As if someone or something had tried to rape his soul. This idea terrified him.

He turned his head, and saw that he was lying on a heap of straw, under a blanket cut into the coarse tissue of a men-things seeds bag. He felt a presence beside him. He craned his neck, slowly raised his eyes. Near him, sitting on the ground, stood the Black Skaven from his litter.

- Chi... tik?

Chitik turned with a sharp movement towards Psody. He muttered in a hesitating voice:

- Psody... You're finally awake! How do you feel?

- What happened?

- Vellux made you eat the dust of the Horned Rat.

- When was this?

- Yesterday. Did it show-show you things?

- Yes, but I didn't understand.

Psody sat up and realised something.

- Hey... what's with your ear?

The Black Skaven had a blood-stained bandage around his skull, with a compress on his right temple.

- Vellux hasn't been happy.

- "Happy"? Psody repeated. What the...

Suddenly, other dim memories gradually resurfaced. He opened his eyes widely.

- What the hell have you done?! It was a ritual ceremony! My elevation to the Grey Seer rank! And you tried to interrupt it, you idiot!

- You looked so sick... I wanted to take you to a quieter place for you to rest. For you to be alone. Vellux didn't want that.

The White Skaven felt assailed by multiple contradictious emotions.

_They __cut his ear off __because he wanted to…__take care of me__?!_

- But... should not, brother, Psody said more calmly. I'll heal. I had to accomplish this feat, as Vellux did, for the glory of the Horned Rat. I'll recover. Now you've lost an ear!

- It doesn't prevent me from hearing.

Given the scowling expression of the Black Skaven, it sounded more like "it's better than losing a brother." The White Skaven was genuinely taken aback. He really didn't know what to answer. Finally, he said:

- Look... I'm sorry if I scared you. But this is a must if I want to serve the Horned Rat. Now, I can represent him.

- You'll eat it again, huh? Like Vellux!

- I... I don't know. Maybe... occasionally. But not right away.

An unpleasant grin sounded through the gap of the door ajar.

- Hey? Hi, there! So, Grey Seer, how do you feel?

- Klur, leave him in peace! Chitik growled.

- I'm not talking to you, big mutton-head! Have you not heard? Oh, I guess that's not surprising!

The Black Skaven got up with a roar. Psody put his hand on the tail of his brother.

- Wait! Forget it. Come in, Klur!

The Eshin Night Runner thrust his head through the opening, with a mocking smile. The White Skaven straightened painfully and remained sat, with a steady gaze.

- Your mind is too narrow for me to take your sarcasm seriously, Klur of Clan Eshin. On your side, remember that I'm now a Grey Seer, and you owe me respect-respect and loyalty! If you forget it, beware!

Klur smiled no more, realising that his younger brother was right. He thought that it would be prudent to change his attitude. He entered the room, and hung his head.

- You're right, brother. I'll treat you as you deserve henceforth.

- Okay. What do you want?

- Grey Seer Vellux wants to talk to you in his laboratory. He'd like you to tell him what you have learned from this incredible day.

- So I won't keep him waiting.

He had trouble, but he managed to stand upright. Chitik followed him to the door of Vellux personal quarters, and waited there.

- It seems your body assimilated the warpstone well. I can tell you, now: not everybody succeeds. The day of my appointment, there were three apprentices to taste it. I am the only one who remained alive-alive. Get dressed.

Vellux put down his instruments on the desk. Psody wore his grey dress, and then waited, hands clasped behind his back. His tail wagged with a slight nervousness.

- Psody, the Horned Rat spoke to you. You saw and heard things, didn't you?

- Yes, master. And I confess I didn't understand everything.

- I want you to relate your dream to me. I'll help you to see its meaning. Sit down and talk without restraint.

The young White Skaven settled on a stool, breathed and began:

- I saw a Grey Seer.

- It's normal. We, the White Skaven, are linked through space and time because we are all direct servants of the Horned Rat. We sometimes see the exploits of our ancestors, or sometimes those of our descendants.

- I think... I think it was Grey Seer Thanquol, your father.

- Oh yeah? You saw Thanquol? Are you sure it was him?

- He had your majesty, his voice sounded like yours... and then I heard him call someone. A strange name, like "Bold-rigger", or...

- Boneripper.

- Yes, that's it! This name often appears with your father's. Who's Boneripper?

- It was his personal rat-ogre. Have you seen anything else?

- Yes, master. A very special forest, with tall trees, high grass. There was another White Skaven, though he was different from us. He wasn't wearing a Grey Seer dress, but a suit with very bright colours. Facing him were… I don't know what they were. Snakes, frogs that walked on two legs.

- Cold-things. These people live in a very distant country, the Lustria. Our race has long fought against them.

The Grey Seer returned to his work plan, rummaging among the various containers.

- You'll have other dreams, they'll be clearer. Warpstone will clarify them further, and soon, no more mystery will resist your intelligence.

- Yes, you are right, master. It was already a bit clearer this time.

Vellux paused. He had his back to Psody, so the latter did not notice the face of his master which suddenly twitched.

- "This time"? You mean it wasn't the first time?

- No, master. The first time was when I honoured the breeder.

- "Honoured the breeder..." the Grey Seer repeated thoughtfully. And what did you see, that time?

Psody felt a little uncomfortable, remembering that night, and its disturbing epilogue. Unless it was the tone of Vellux's voice that had changed.

- The cold-things were already there, I can see their eyes again, their scales, and I can hear their whistles. I saw them torture and kill Skaven.

- So you understand why we must get rid of them? said the Grey Seer, facing Psody again. They are the enemies of the Horned Rat.

- There was also the White Skaven I saw today. Indeed, now that I think about it again, I recognize him. He was in very bad situation. Lizard-things were torturing him, too. But after, I saw something else. A... a large building, like a huge men-things stone-made hut.

- Men-things call this "castle". They hide inside to escape our wrath. One day, maybe, you'll see one, to storm it.

- At the top of the castle, there was a flag with Skaven drawn on.

Vellux smiled a dubious smile.

- Probably the future. You know it, we're destined to rule the world. All cities of all the lower races will have to wave a flag with the triangle of the Horned Rat and our faces. This should gladden you, Psody.

- There was one last thing. A Skaven spoke. He asked for something... "Do I desolate you?" Or "disappoint"? Yes, he asked if he disappointed me?

- Do you remember what he looked like?

- Vaguely. He was a toddler, he looked young, maybe two or three seasonal cycles old.

- Was he white?

- I can't remember his colour, but he didn't have horns, I'm sure.

The Grey Seer pouted.

- I think it's your conscience. As you can see yourself deep inside your mind. I've heard of that kind of image. You have the desire to please the Horned Rat, iwhat is honourable. Being his messenger is a heavy responsibility, and sometimes you'll give the impression of appearing smaller and weaker that you really are. But don't worry, Psody. Continue to serve me well, and you'll be cherished by the Horned Rat.

- I'm sure of it, my master. Thank you for your support.

Psody bowed respectfully. Vellux then made a gesture toward the door.

- Go and rest now. In the coming days, you'll help me to find Aescos Karkadourian and treat him as he deserves.

- Yes, my master! Glory to the Horned Rat!

- Glory to the Horned Rat.

Psody left the laboratory. Once alone, Vellux waited a long minute, doing nothing. His brain was boiling, white-hot by what he heard. He returned to his office with jerky movement, and tried to start an experiment on which he had wanted to work for a long time, but was too distracted. He took a vial filled with red liquid and looked at it with a puzzled look. Suddenly, with a yelp of anger, he threw it against the back wall, and banged his fist on the wooden table, knocking over several test tubes. He wanted to slow the pace of his breathing.

_Relax, relax... All is not lost-lost._


	3. Acceptance

Three moons passed without any notable incident. Each of the five brothers progressed in his field, and their superiors were satisfied of their prowess. Diassyon was appointed as Apprentice Warlock Engineer under the tutelage of Mabrukk, the head of Clan Skryre in the colony. Klur also went up in the hierarchy, and became Gutter Runner, one of the most feared assassins of Clan Eshin. Moly, still Plague Monk, didn't seem concerned about his future – in fact, his permanent stupor didn't allow him to think much. Chitik joined the ranks of Stormvermin. He felt very proud, and this time his young white brother shared his enthusiasm.

Psody had gradually got his bearings in Brissuc. Even if he still felt troubled, thinking back to his discomfort resulting from the ingestion of warpstone, he found the tone to be respected by the socially inferior Skaven. Several times, he used the magic of the Horned Rat to put down a slave rebellion, punish an ineffective Skaven, or simply show who the boss was. His subordinates had learned to fear him and obey him without any question.

His four brothers had become closer with time. Whenever he had the opportunity, Chitik pursued his White Skaven personal guard job, a task he fulfilled with zeal and happiness, even if his younger brother never missed an opportunity to snub him. The Black Skaven had angelic patience, he never took offence, either that or a too limited intelligence, or both. Diassyon showed him the plans of his inventions, and allowed him to attend the tests. Even Klur finally behaved less sarcastically and obeyed orders with a formidable efficiency. Only Moly remained distant. His dependence on euphoric drugs had become too strong, he was now constantly dazed, except during the conflict, during which he could suddenly become very violent and maul anyone who passed within reach with the latest savagery. Fortunately for him, all this didn't prevent him from fulfilling his role of Plague Monk and continue preparing concoctions loaded with disease.

A good life was promised to Psody. However, one thing really bothered him. Gradually, as time passed, he gradually had the feeling that he wanted to move away from his master. He often had rather disturbing visions some nights, and he always described it to Vellux. He hadn't yet gone back to the warpstone, and this seemed to embarrass his mentor. Psody sometimes felt that the latter was deliberately avoiding him, curtailing their conversations. Without malice, but without warm, either. The little White Skaven eventually considered it as part of his path to independence. After all, wouldn't he one day become master of a colony, too? Vellux had freed himself from his master, it was logical that he, Psody, did the same.

One day, finally, the young ratman was summoned to the laboratory of the Grey Seer. And to his pleasant surprise, Vellux welcomed him with open arms.

- Ah, Psody, my young friend! Come in!

The young ratman walked timidly through the door. His master had a big smile.

- I have excellent news for you. The breeder you have sown gave birth last night. Thanks to you, the colony is now stronger with ten Skaven!

- Ten!

- Yes! Unfortunately, no new female-female, nor White or Black Skaven. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to do it again.

- This is... unexpected. And Chitik? How much did...?

Vellux's smile was tinged with a slight bitterness.

- No luck! His breeder didn't get fat. Don't worry, it's not his fault, he'll do better next time! Instead, I think the time of this female is over, it was already old.

- And... what will it become?

- We'll get rid of it, the Grey Seer replied with a simple shrug.

Somewhere, deep within himself, the small White Skaven felt a twinge in his heart. What did he mean by "get rid of"? He preferred not to think about it.

- Have you had other visions, lately?

- Yes, but nothing very clear. Always lizard-things, and your father.

- Nothing that would allow us to find Aescos Karkadourian? It would be a good thing, Psody. I'm still looking for a track. No way to find out where this sorcerer-sorcerer is hiding!

- It's not possible! Nobody can escape from your foresight.

- Alas, it's not so simple. We're dealing with a weird-thing which serves the god of dark secrets. It is trickier than I thought. But if we join our forces, we could find it! Maybe if you ate a little warpstone piece, you would see more clearly?

Psody still felt something tweaking his guts. He had recovered from his experience, but wouldn't a second dose have more serious consequences? He decided to be more brave.

- In fact, my master, I had to meet you. I have something to confess.

- Oh yeah? What?

The young ratman thought he perceived a slight change in the voice of his master, but he wasn't completely sure. He continued:

- You see, I thought…, and I had an idea about finding something.

- A personal initiative?

- No, master. The Horned Rat whispered this idea in my sleep. We know that Karkadourian realises experiments on Skaven breeders. So I decided to search not for the weird-things winds of magic, but... emotions felt by the breeders.

Vellux stared at his young disciple with completely incredulous expression.

- What are you talking about?

- The first breeder we saw in Niklasweiler wasn't as drugged as those of the colony. I clearly felt the difference when I mated it – this one was too dazed to experience a coherent emotion. But I realised that female Skaven are living beings which can feel fear. And like us, they emit smells of fear, different smells from ours. So I decided to stay a few days in the nursery to try to recognise the smell of breeder without any doubt. The younger, which are not yet subject to the production of Clanrats, are more alert, and exhale fear.

- You went to the nursery? You know it's forbidden to male Skaven without my permission!

- This time, the Grey Seer had spoken louder. Psody wasn't discouraged, and continued:

- I know it very well, o supreme eternal authority of Brissuc. And that's why I didn't enter the building itself. Garog wouldn't allow me to do this, and I didn't want to arouse suspicion. So I remained hidden on the other side of the street, and I opened my senses to identify the musk of fear emitted by the breeders.

- I begin to wonder if your have clear ideas, Psody... continue.

- Once I really learned to recognize that smell, I spent three nights on the hill.

- Three nights on the hill? the tall Grey Seer repeated. What have you plotted?

- I meditated, and I opened up my nose and my perception of others' emotions.

- Anyone could have found you! reproached Vellux. It is not yet safe for us to stay on the surface enough! I find you very unwise!

- Chitik was with me, he could defend me. He had no idea what I was doing, he's too stupid for that. And yesterday I finally felt something. I sensed a very, very slight fluctuation. And it was not from Brissuc, nor Niklasweiler. It came from the east! And there's another men-things village in that direction!

- Are you trying to tell me you think you have smelled the odour of a female Skaven in miles from here, despite the distance and all the other odours?

- I don't think, my master, I know it. The magic of Warp allowed me to strengthen my senses to the extreme.

- And your nose hasn't been overloaded by all the smells of the neighbourhood?

- No, because I focused on the smell of the ratmothers. I remembered your teachings, master. And it's thanks to your lessons that I reached my goal.

The small White Skaven anxiously waited for the reaction of his master. The latter gave him a suspicious glance.

- This is quite a... special theory. But I wonder why-why you didn't tell me anything before?

- Because I wasn't sure of the effectiveness of this plan. And you're always too busy honouring the word of the Horned Rat to let me bother you without being sure of the success of this plan. I respect you too much for that, you and I never would have spoken if I wasn't convinced I would get this right. The only thing I need to realise it is your permission, my master.

Psody knelt and bowed his head. The Grey Seer Vellux was genuinely taken aback. His student had the nerve to move near the restricted areas of the colony then outside without warning him, and perhaps succeed where he had failed. On the other hand, he remained humble, didn't show any insolence, and had only applied his teachings with intelligence and daring. He finally decided to give him a chance.

- All right, Psody. After all, you're a Grey Seer, now. You have a full head, it would be silly not to use it. I grant you my permission. However I advise you to be careful. I know a bit about this village, it's called Maraksberg. It's larger and more populated than Niklasweiler.

- I'll ask Klur to scout it, he can do it. Then I'll tell you what it is.

- I'll wait. Yet, in the future, please do not use that kind of concealment-concealment. Looks like you don't trust me.

The small White Skaven was aghast.

- Oh, my master! I'd prefer to die than disappoint you!

- I know it well, my young disciple. Go, the Horned Rat is watching you.

- Glory to the Horned Rat! Psody declared emphatically.

He got up, bowed again and left the laboratory.

When the door closed, Vellux clenched his fists, and his fur stood on the entire length of his back. He turned to the darkest corner of his laboratory.

- Did you hear?

- Everything, o Grey Seer.

A draped form came out of the shadows, walking quietly.

- You just have to say one word, and he dies.

- Not yet. When he sees his plan is doomed to failure and that there's nothing in this village, he'll cease to doubt my word.

- What if his plan works? It may embolden-embolden him.

- Indeed. You'll watch him, and make me a daily report on his activities. I'll see what to do if things go too far.

- At your service, Grey Seer.

- Remember one thing: if you get caught, I do nothing to help you. If you mention my name, you die-die in the next hour. Have I been clear?

- Crystal, o Grey Seer.

Psody gave some instructions to a young novice Night Runner, and ran to the quarters of Stormvermin, eager to get his big brother. He found him training in the use of the club – the dead slaves too lame to work men-things sprawled around him. Once the last slave had been squashed, Chitik wiped his brow, satisfied. The hole left by his missing right ear was hidden, fur had grown, more densely thanks to a special paste prepared by the White Skaven.

- Chitik! Stop immediately and come with me, we have a work to do!

The great Black Skaven nodded vigorously, and obediently followed the little Grey Seer. Both arrived at a place where many Skaven came and went. They saw that Klur and Diassyon were waiting for them. The brown Skaven raised his arm.

- Brothers! What a pleasure to see you!

Klur gave a little nod. Psody noticed Diassyon's clothing. As Warlock Engineer, he constantly wore a brown leather apron and a vest with a multitude of pockets, and a utility belt filled with tools tied around his waist. The Skryre already had a feverish look as he asked:

- So you need us? We go back to the surface?

- Maybe not for long, Diassyon, don't get excited. Where is Moly?

- He may have not been warned? Klur whispered.

- In that case, the Eshin messengers can't be trusted!

The coal-black Skaven whistled in irritation. Chitik pointed to one of the tunnels.

- There he is.

Indeed, the Plague Monk advanced towards the other. They could see he was dragging his leg under his purple dress, and each step made him gasp. He coughed, spit black phlegm on the floor and sniffed loudly. The White Skaven gave a grimace of disgust.

- As time passes, you're becoming unbearable, Moly!

- Not my fault, Psody... I am... I am sick.

- All Pestilens are sick, spat Klur. It doesn't make all of them useless-useless!

Moly showed his rotten teeth with a threatening yelp, but recoiled as Chitik took a step toward him. Psody raised his hand.

- Well, we have better things to do than argue. You'll accompany me outside. That night, we'll approach a men-things village. Klur, I'm going to need your Gutter Runner talents. Diassyon and Moly, you'll stay back with me back to see what the best strategy is, whether we have to attack this village. You, Chitik will defend us. Get ready, we leave at the next bell ringing! You'll find me at East tunnel.

Klur of Clan Eshin was in his small personal cell. He opened his leather bag containing his equipment. He carefully selected his daggers. Not the greatest, but the sharpest. He wouldn't pick up cutlass or sword, because he didn't intend to fight. Be invisible and kill his prey without being seen, that was his style. He had the opportunity to do some patrolling on the surface, taking lives of walking on the roads or isolated on their farms men-things.

He congratulated himself on having a brother blessed by the Horned Rat. Indirectly, the god of Skaven hadn't only favoured his representative, he had also thought about his brothers. Chitik was very tough, even for a Black Skaven. Diassyon had a vivid imagination when he wanted to improve an invention of Warlock Engineer Mabrukk. And he, Klur, saw his Assassin future increasingly clearly. Tweezil, the leader of Clan Eshin at Brissuc colony, chose him seeing the anthracite colour of his fur, and the following years had proved he had been right. The young Skaven had developed talents for stealth and assassination that were above average. Several other Eshin had expressed jealousy, but when one of them died in "unexplained circumstances", nobody dared criticize Klur.

He chose two daggers, three throwing knives, and decided to take a little useful invention of Diassyon's: a small glass globe containing a gas that emitted thick black smoke. It just needed to be broken.

_I hope I won't have to use it._

He renounced the warplock pistol. It was too noisy and not reliable enough. He hesitated, looking at the tail blade. This little toy could save his life, but it was rather cumbersome, and distorted the balance that his tail secured him. Finally, he decided to leave it. Instead, he seized his special climbing gloves, with metal claws attached to the back of the hand. These accessories ensured a better grip when scaling walls and ceilings, and could also kill a man-thing. Finally, he left his cell, and joined the other four Skaven.

The sky was cloudy, this time, and the moonlight only illuminated the surrounding fields intermittently. The five Skaven marched in single file on the grass, Klur on front. The coal-black Skaven had suggested that they not walk on the dirt trail, to avoid leaving traces, and despite the protests of Moly and Chitik, they followed the advice of the Gutter Runner, well-versed in infiltration methods. They walked for an hour, during which the Plague Monk hadn't stopped complaining. Always the last one, he struggled to keep pace.

Finally, they reached the top of a hill, and saw the village below.

- It's bigger than the other, noted Klur.

- And there are more people, added Diassyon. But it's clear! I can see everything!

Indeed, Maraksberg was a city larger and more populated. It was built on the side of a large hill. Half of the houses were high compared to others. The chimneys smoked and there were lanterns hung on the stone walls that lit up the streets and the forum. Despite the night, some men-things were outside.

- What are they doing? Psody asked.

The Skaven could see in the dark as well as in the light, but in the underground tunnels, their sight didn't need to extend very far, and it became inaccurate beyond twenty yards. Diassyon pulled a small portable telescope out of his bag. He laid on the grass and turned his telescope towards the small town.

- They are arranging tables and chairs. There's also food. Some seem drunk.

- Probably the end of a day of celebration, Moly mumbled in a drawling.

Psody pouted in surprise.

- Looks like you have still some functional bits of brain!

- There are none but adult males, Diassyon said. Females and young are probably sleeping.

- Do they look tired? asked the Pestilens.

- Yep. They walk slowly, they carry their stuff with care.

Men-things drink much-much of intoxicating liquor when they party.

- It decreases their attention even more! Klur exclaimed with a delighted smile.

The White Skaven gave his brother an order:

- Go and see what's happening. Check out things in connection with the weird-things. A strange man-thing, a sound, a beast, no matter what. When you have a sign, you come back right away and I'll advise.

Klur nodded and ran silently towards the village. Within seconds he had disappeared into the tall grass of a field. The Grey Seer asked the Warlock Engineer:

- Try to spot Klur, watch his movements.

- If I manage to! Diassyon quipped. He's an Eshin, he's trained to disappear.

The brown Skaven nevertheless continued to watch the village through his telescope. Psody turned to the Plague Monk.

- You!

- Me? Finally, you're interested in me! Why do you concern yourself with miserable Moly? the Pestilens asked in a honeyed voice.

- I've heard you're pretty good at estimating the number of Clanrats required depending the enemy

- I have to be, if I want to know what quantities of contaminated water and pounds of plague incense must be prepared. And I have a small gift for identifying strategic points.

- So you will have a good look at this village. If we attack it later, we must be prepared.

- What about me? asked the gruff voice of Chitik.

- You watch over us three. Moly and Diassyon observe Maraksberg with their eyes, and I'll contemplate it with my mind. If someone else other than Klur approaches, you warn me right away!

The big Black Skaven hit the ground with the tip of the handle of his hammer. Satisfied, Psody sat crossed-legged on the grass. He placed his hands on his knees, closed his eyes and concentrated to create a vacuum in his head. He knew there was something to be found in this village, somewhere. The emotional vibration he had felt came from one of these houses. He opened his magic reception senses, in search of a supernatural sensation. He spotted the smell he had been affected by, and didn't take long to determine the exact location.

He felt distress. Fear. Emotions in their purest form, without any intellectual involvement. By focusing his senses on this point, he spotted fluctuations in the Warp. Many beacons were emitting magical energy around the fumes of fear. Gradually, his mind built the image of the strong relief around these fluctuations. The shape of a large house formed in the mind of the young ratman.

_Two floors__, __a large door __with __complex ironwork__, __a __garden surrounded by __a grid..._

During his meditation, he smiled. Now he was sure of where to search.

It took just five minutes to Klur to approach Maraksberg. Walking around, he spotted a darker corner, and where men-things were less numerous. He sniffed the air, wrinkled his eyes and spotted several potential hiding places: a hay stack, a pile of boxes near a wall, the well, narrow streets without light. Men-things were packing away, and paid no attention to the shadows. The Eshin Gutter Runner was delighted. This was precisely the kind of exercise that made adrenaline circulate in his body, which intoxicated him deliciously. He rushed to one of the setback houses, and climbed at full speed along the wall. He leapt from roof to roof without making any noise and hid behind a chimney. Nobody had suspected his passage. He looked around.

The central square was a bit lower down from where he was, and a carved stone staircase led the way down. His Skaven eyes saw the whole scene very clearly. He looked for anything that stood out whilst the memorised the layout. Then he spotted movement in a shady corner. One man-thing wasn't behaving like the others. It was far away, and seemed like it was talking to someone. Sometimes it looked over its shoulder as if it was afraid to be surprised. He listened, but heard nothing.

_I have to __get closer..._

He dropped from the roof and landed in a bush. Then he crawled at full speed to the nearest house. He flattened himself on the ground and froze.

The man-thing was talking to a character whose face was hidden under a hood. Klur felt his fur bristling. He instinctively knew something was wrong with this masked one. The Eshin couldn't explain it, he just felt it. He also heard the fear in the voice of the villager. It was scared of its interlocutor as much as to be seen talking with it. It sounded extremely nervous. The other was talked with a calmer tone, and didn't seem worried. It also had a strange smell.

Klur cursed himself for not speaking the men-things language, he could tell that he was missing out on an important conversation. He promised himself to ask his master to teach him this language. However, his ears pricked up as he recognized a word. "Karkadourian". Yes, that was the name of the master of the weird-things at Niklasweiler. He saw the hooded figure hand a purse to the peasant. He guessed that the little leather bag contained these small gold discs that men-things coveted more than anything. The man-thing with the visible face walked to one of the grand houses in the village centre, while the other moved away towards the fields.

Just as the anthracite Skaven decided to follow the hooded one, as an unpleasant clank sounded just behind him. A voice whispered a few syllables he didn't understand. He gritted his teeth.

_What a__ rookie mistake__!_

Klur turned slightly and saw a man-thing in the corner of his eye. It brandished a pistol. It repeated in its own dialect what it had whispered sooner. Probably a threat or an order to surrender. Nothing very convincing for the Eshin.

With a sharp movement of his tail, Klur mowed the legs of the man-thing, and it fell on its back. He threw himself upon his prey, and crushed its belly with all his weight. With one hand, he covered its mouth and threw its head back, with the other hand he slashed its throat with the claws of his glove. After a few seconds the man-thing did not move any more. The Skaven got up and watched for the slightest movement. No one else seemed to have spotted him. Quickly, he pulled the still warm body behind a pile of boxes stacked near a house.

He returned to his observation post, but there wasn't any further trace of the hooded figure. The Skaven raised his nose, sniffed a few times. He failed to find the odd odour, as if it had disappeared. He growled between his teeth, and decided to return to his brothers.

Diassyon had finally located his brother Eshin, and had watched his brief fight against the man-thing with the pistol. He wanted to see in turn what had attracted the attention of the Gutter Runner, but something had distracted him for quite a few minutes. He raised his head, and turned to the Plague Monk. Moly was chewing a piece of hard wood forcefully.

- Stop that!

Moly loosened teeth, and muttered angrily:

- Don't want to brux!

The incisors of the Skaven people grew continuously. When they were too long, they prevented the Skaven from speaking properly. The rattling of their teeth distorted their elocution, and the Sons of the Horned Rat called it "brux". To avoid this, the Skaven filed their teeth regularly, or chafed them on solid materials. In both cases, it made a loud noise.

The Warplock Engineer sighed, exasperated, and took back his telescope. He heard Chitik murmur:

- Psody? Klur is coming.

The little White Skaven rose. A moment later, the Eshin was there.

- So, Klur, you saw something?

- Oh yeah, brother! One of the men-things spoke about Karkadourian. And there was a hooded figure. I haven't been able to follow it, it disappeared into the night.

- What? You let your prey get away?

- It smelled magic, brother. It probably used it to escape.

Psody grumbled, but accepted this argument. The Eshin continued:

- I wonder if it was not a weird-thing?

- Really?

- Yes, I assure you! It had a bad odour-odour. Not that of men-things. It spoke of Karkadourian, too, and it gave a gift to the village man-thing. And you, have you felt something?

- Yes, I'm sure.

The Grey Seer looked at his other brothers.

- Let's go back to Brissuc.

And the five Skaven left the perimeter of Maraksberg.

Grey Seer Vellux seemed moderately satisfied.

- So your brother Klur heard two men-things talking about Karkadourian?

- That's what he says. I don't know if we can trust him.

- In courage, I'm not sure, but for listening, you can. The Eshin who don't have a good hearing are quickly murdered by their peers.

- I felt the magic in one of the houses, in addition to the smell of fear. I think we should be able to find something very useful in there.

- Hmm... maybe. And I know men-things. They will do anything to collect these little brilliant rounds they call "gold crowns", including send their kind to weird-things.

- So weird-things are planning to settle in the village, master?

Indeed, and we'll stop them. Maraksberg must be destroyed.

The idea of committing a massacre didn't disturb the small White Skaven. For the Sons of the Horned Rat, it was precisely the main reason they trained, to develop infernal machines, and concoct diseases. The surface should be cleared of all inferior races.

- Will you lead the assault, master?

- Of course I won't, Psody. I must stay here to continue listening to the Horned Rat. This will be an excellent opportunity for you to please him. You'll gather a battalion you command.

- Me, o unique reason of my existence?

- You. A Grey Seer must be able to lead Clanrats. It will be a very good exercise.

The small White Skaven knelt, and bowed his head.

- Master, you're making me a huge honour-honour. I'll do my best to be worthy of your expectations.

- You won't hesitate to use the Warp magic, will you? Do you want me to give you some warpstone?

Psody felt a slight tingling in his intestines. He decided to play the Grey Seer game. He got up and said:

- It will doubtless be very useful, master.

With a smile of complicity, Vellux lifted the lid of a clay pot on his desk and pulled out a little nugget of warpstone. He laid it in the hand of his young servant. Psody slipped the warpstone into one of the bags from his belt, inwardly vowing to eat it only in case of extreme necessity.

- Now, go! Your other brother Moly described the scene to Plague Deacon Soum. I'll see with him what forces we can afford to raise for such an assault. You'll find me tomorrow with your brothers near the northern gallery, at sunset. I'll wait for you with Clanrats who will accompany you.

- Right, my master.

Psody had difficulty getting to sleep. He predicted that the battle of the next day would sap all his physical and mental energy. So when he found himself before the troops that had been made available by Vellux, he was rather anxious. But just as the real Skaven leaders did, he hid his anguish under an authoritarian guise.

Before him stood the Skaven that formed his battalion. It took several hours to gather all of them, to bring them out from the burrows of Brissuc, and bring them near Maraksberg. Thirty Clanrats were waiting, armed with dull cutlasses, corroded iron bars, sticks, hammers and other tools stolen from men-things. Plague Deacon Soum had ordered a contingent of a dozen young Plague Monks, still novices, to accompany Moly – this battle would be their adulthood passing test. Klur was still the only representative of Clan Eshin. However, six young Clan Skryre Skirmishers equipped with warplock pistols and jezzails had joined the little band. Three Stormvermin supported Chitik. The latter had chosen to try his heavy mace.

Skaven were gathered in small regiments before the little White Skaven. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and said, in his most authoritarian voice:

"Listen up! There's a source of magic-magic somewhere in this village. I know where it is, but I don't know what it is. Before the storm, I'm going to find out. All men-things are sleeping, this shouldn't be too risky. But the most important thing is not to make any noise until the attack! We must maintain the element of surprise!

"Diassyon, Klur, you come with me. I'll get what I've felt. Once I've found what it is, Diassyon will send a signal. He prepared a flying flame. When you see the green light, you'll move to attack. But remember: do not enter the house-house that is being watched by Diassyon! This is where men-things leave the treasures we came for, and I don't want any of you to break something by accident! If any harm comes to the magical artifacts, I will personally punish-punish the responsible! And besides, to be sure, I am telling you that Diassyon put down anyone who tries to enter the house he'll keep!

"Chitik, I entrust to you the command of Clanrats during my absence. You'll lead the attack when you see the signal. But if there is no news in one hour, it means we won't return. In that case, all of you must get back to the colony! No need to waste Clanrats. In the meantime, ensure no one talks too loud. I order you to break the first one who plays the fool into pieces! Got it?"

The great Black Skaven nodded vigorously, and raised his weapon in one hand.

- Right. Stay calm, follow my orders, and I promise you we'll walk over their dead bodies before sunrise.

- Be careful, brothers, Chitik said.

- Who do you think we are? Klur yelped. They have not a chance-chance!

The three Skaven went forward, the Gutter Runner ahead.

As they reached the edge of Maraksberg, the bell of the small temple rang five times. There wasn't a soul around. Psody put his finger on his lips. He waved his hand, and led the way. An owl hooted in the distance. The White Skaven walked for a few minutes, closely followed by his two brothers, and stopped near a large house.

- Here, he whispered.

He put his hand on the handle of the heavy carved door, and pushed gently. There was a little rattle, but the door didn't budge.

- Closed, of course. Diassyon, can you open it?

- No problem, brother!

- While you open it, I'll take care of inhabitants, Klur swished.

- If it guarantees us peace, kill-kill!

The anthracite Skaven allowed himself a grin. He climbed on the wall as easily as walking on land, and arrived on the roof. He spotted a window leading to the attic. Very gently, he opened it. The round window was narrow, but nevertheless he managed to slip inside. Once inside house, he used his sense of smell to locate some sleeping men-things. They were just downstairs. He found a wooden spiral staircase descending, and went down the steps one by one on his toes.

He reached a long corridor with several wooden doors. Without hesitation he went to the second, opened it slowly, quietly. He stuck his head through the opening, and saw two men-things, sleeping in what they called "bed": a mass of tissue stuffed with feathers laid on a wooden frame, with a large piece of wool covered them. His lips stretched in a cruel smile in the dark, as he slowly raised his two daggers. He spotted the precise forms of the villagers, squatted, then made a huge jump. He fell right in between his two prey and in the same movement he thrust each blade directly into the throat of his victims. They woke up immediately, but could not make the faintest cry. He withdrew his daggers with a sharp movement, spouting two scarlet fountains. The two men-things slumped on the mattress, and died within seconds. The coal-black Skaven noticed that the male was wearing a key attached to a chain around his neck. He tore it from the body of his victim.

Klur left the room and made to go down to the ground floor. But he stopped short. A man-thing wearing a long white shirt stood in the hallway. It was a male, not yet an adult, but big and strong enough to serve as a slave. It held in its hand a piece of bread, and had the other hand on the handle of the back door. Its eyes were wide open, and it was paralyzed with terror. Klur left him no time to react. With a precise movement, he threw his dagger directly into the heart of the man-thing, which collapsed on the floor. He recovered it from the still warm body, and went downstairs.

He arrived down there just in time to see the door slowly opening. He gave some small whistles, and the same melody was played through the doorway. Psody was the first to enter his sight.

- Ah, there you are! the White Skaven murmured. So what?

- Three men-things died a few seconds ago, brother. I didn't smell any other.

- Good. The source of magic is further below.

Psody pivoted outwardly.

- Diassyon, climb up on the roof. If you see something in approach, warn us!

The brown Skaven climbed the wall, bending under the weight of his heavy backpack. He didn't move with the same ease as Klur, but reached the top of the house eventually. The two brothers who remained inside searched for an entrance to the cellar. When they arrived in the kitchen, they found a small locked door. The Gutter Runner took the key he had found on the man-thing. from his pocket The lock gave way with a loud click, and the door opened with a creak. Klur was the first to descend the stone stairs.

Downstairs, they arrived in a dark cellar. The Eshin spotted an oil lamp hanging on a nail. He took it and lit it with his lighter. The lighting was sufficient for the eyes of the two ratmen. The whole room appeared very clearly. Psody understood they were in a laboratory similar to the one they saw at Niklasweiler. He spotted a desk on which there were several sheets of paper. Written notes in Reikspiel again, with a wax seal bearing the sign of Slaanesh. They saw shelves containing books, jars and boxes too.

- It's almost too easy, Klur muttered.

- It's almost eerie, you mean.

Both Skaven then heard weak squeaks from the back of the room. The noise came from a large box, made using wooden planks nailed together, three feet high and six feet long, with no cover. Psody wanted to see what it was, but Klur stretched his arm before him, blocking his way.

- Wait, it might be a trap.

The anthracite Skaven raised one of his daggers, and approached the box. He slowly looked into it, ready to confront anything. Psody saw him jump in surprise.

- Gosh!

- What, what?

The White Skaven approached, and looked in in turn. In the box, there were three Skaven lying on sawdust. They were very young and very small. The largest measured twenty inches excluding the tail, the second was a little shorter, and the third one was huddled in a corner, trembling, without daring to look up.

- Babies, Klur muttered.

- Yep. The oldest isn't more than one annual cycle old.

- And the little one, not more than one moon. No White or Black.

- It's true, but I think we found what we were looking for.

- I'm going to check.

Klur drew his dagger and plunged his hand into the case. He seized the largest pup by the neck and lifted it out. The small creature began to yelp. The Gutter Runner took no account, and examined it from all angles.

- Ha! I knew it!

He put the little thing down without ceremony, and picked up the second to study it in the same way.

- You were right, brother!

Psody agreed with a nod. As the anthracite Skaven was about to grab the third ratling, he put his hand on his brother's shoulder.

- Wait, don't be so rough!

Psody stretched his arm out to the small trembling ball still wedged in the bottom, and turned it round softly. He looked pensive.

- Incredible... Three young female Skaven in the hands of weird-things!

- I wonder how they managed to abduct them? If this Karkadourian is a sorcerer, he probably used his magic. Besides, have you seen? The two largest are tattooed.

- Indeed. These are the same symbols as the ones on the female which killed Skahl. And it is their fear I felt while I meditated. Now I'm sure.

- So what do we do now?

Psody scanned the room.

- There's enough stuff in this laboratory to justify an attack on this village. Let's join the others.

Klur turned toward the exit.

- Come on, don't drag! The sun will soon rise, and with it the men-things!

- I was just thinking... we must take them, that's why we're here.

- We're here to pick up magic items, and not... that! What do you want to do with them?

- If they are cursed, Vellux can study them. If they are normal, we'll use them as breeders.

The Skaven anthracite looked sceptical.

- Yeah... But it would be more prudent-prudent to take them when reinforcements arrive and the men-things are unable to defend themselves. For now, we must go! Close the door and keep the key, for greater security.

- Good suggestion, Klur. Go tell Diassyon to send the signal.

Klur ascended the stairs at full speed.

Psody remained alone in the cellar. He was about to leave, when stronger moans sounded out of the box. He looked back inside. The oldest small Skaven was standing on its hind legs and stretched its hands toward him desperately. The edge of the box was too high for it to get out. It begged him with its gaze not to leave it there. The White Skaven felt his heart becoming heavier. He leaned forward and whispered in a voice he tried to make reassuring:

- I must leave you there for now, but I'll return soon, and then you can serve the Horned Rat with me.

Hearing his voice, the little thing squealed more quietly. He fumbled in one of his bags, and took out a half-eaten apple. He dropped it into the box.

- Here, in the meantime, take that!

The little creature picked up the apple, and began to nibble it. Psody turned away from the box, locked the door behind him, climbed the stairs, and left the house. Diassyon was bustling on the roof. He was picking out of his backpack a whole collection of pistols. Psody was surprised to see so many. The Skryre had to use a lot of efforts to carry them all.

- Diassyon, remember? Shoot-shoot anyone trying to enter here, even Skaven!

- Every Skaven?

The White Skaven glanced at the Gutter Sewer.

- Klur, you won't do anything stupid, will you?

- Oh, brother! What are you thinking about?

Psody looked up.

- I gave a simple order. Until I say otherwise, Skaven of this battalion do what I say! Now, send the signal!

Diassyon nodded, and waved a strange little object: it was a tube with a small string at one end. He pulled the strand of hemp, and a light flare went off with a big noise. It exploded twenty yards in the air, and spread a shower of small green sparks that fell slowly on Maraksberg. Psody whistled with surprise.

- Impressive! How did you do that?

- Thanks to Klur's powders! replied the Warplock Engineer.

- Clan Eshin guards powders from lands near where the sun rises, the coal-black Skaven specified with pride. It's a part of our science.

- Come, we must reach out to others, fast-fast! The men-things are surely awake!

Klur ran in the direction from which their comrades had arrived. Male men-things came out of their houses, and looked toward the lights, completely caught off guard. The Gutter Runner threw himself on top of a small group of three men-things. Without even slowing down, he twirled his dagger to slay two of them, then he rolled on the back of the third one to topple it, before seizing its ears and breaking its skull on the ground.

On the roof, Diassyon grabbed one of his warplock jezzails, laid down on the tiles, and aimed calmly.

Psody ran as fast as he could, but his weak constitution didn't allow him to hold his breath for very long. He jumped back as a female man-thing attacked him with a frightened cry. She was armed with a broom, and hit him masterfully on his temple. He fell to the ground and found himself head over tail. His eyes widened as he saw the female jump on him, ready to strike him again, when suddenly it was thrown on the side by something invisible. Without understanding, the little White Skaven got up and ran again.

The Warlock Engineer grabbed another gun with a satisfied smile. He heard cries a few yards below. One of the villagers had spotted him, and tried to dislodge him by throwing stones. The brown Skaven was almost annoyed to use a bullet against such a poor victim.

Psody couldn't help admiring the style of his Eshin brother. The men-things fell one after the other on his path. He never had the opportunity of facing a formidable opponent, but for the back-stabbed assassination, he could be the pride of Master Assassin Tweezil. The Grey Seer decided to shine in turn. He slowed his pace, raised his hands above his head and green energy lightings spurted from his outstretched fingers. Two villagers were blasted.

The men-things weren't acting in panic any longer, but anger. They were brandishing pitchforks, knives, mallets, shovels, sticks and many other improvised weapons. Klur stopped and stepped back, ready to defend himself. Psody stood at his side. Both Skaven were surrounded, and the situation was no better for Diassyon. Then a great pandemonium broke out. The Skaven reached the square, led by Chitik. An odious concert of screech, whistles and yelping electrified the villagers. The less courageous dropped their weapons and scampered away. Klur only had to lift his arm to cut the neck of a young man-thing who had tried to circumvent him.

Still on the roof of the main house, the Warplock Engineer sneered in excitation. He still had some ready-to-shoot pistols left, but he decided to take advantage of the general panic to reload some other, an exercise he practised a lot. His movements were precise, his fingers didn't tremble despite the complexity of the action.

Moly of Clan Pestilens remained behind with the Plague Monks. He had decided it was his absolute right, as a representative of Deacon Soum, the second summit of Brissuc. He gave a chuckle as he saw the Clanrats massacring men-things, but he lacked air when he turned his head toward the south. Indeed, twenty men-things mounted on horseback were coming. Unlike the villagers, these fighters were well armed, and wore iron armours with helmets and shields. One of them was carrying a banner. The cream Skaven immediately recognized the symbol associated with Karkadourian. He didn't really want to fight, but preferred not to take the risk of disappointing the Deacon. He pointed to the regiment.

- Go-go! Death to weird things!

And the young Plague Monks left towards Maraksberg.

Psody in turn saw the marauders as they entered the village. He spotted their banner, and shrieked in panic.

- By the Horned Rat!

- My brothers, I'm here! Chitik roared.

The great Black Skaven and his three fellows threw themselves together on the riders. Their passion and their heavy weapons broke the momentum of marauders. The horses were the first to fall. The Clanrats then attempted to take the riders. Alas, they were made of sterner stuff, and resisted the blows of the Skaven. The ratmen, however, were violently repelled. Some bandits jumped from their horses to better slash the ranks of the Skaven.

Faced with this spectacle, the villagers took heart. They had not realised this providential help had come from the forces of Chaos. Klur of Clan Eshin felt the situation balanced dangerously in disfavour of his camp. He turned on his heel and scampered off at full gallop. Psody realised this.

- Klur! You coward!

One male man-thing grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, barking in their language. The White Skaven concentrated at top speed and mumbled a few syllables, praying to the Horned Rat not to forget anyone. Two other villagers were about to seize the Grey Seer in turn. Psody opened his mouth and blew. By the magic of the Warp, he expelled a greenish cloud out of his lungs with phenomenal force. The three men-things were asphyxiated by the White Skaven's poisonous breath, and remained on the ground, coughing. The young ratman took the opportunity to hide behind the group of Plague Monks.

Pestilens arrived on the marauders. They were less numerous than the Clanrats, but had one advantage: they were insensitive to pain because of drugs they used regularly, and the smell of blood aroused their deepest bestiality. So they struck the Chaos warriors with an incredible ferocity. As one of the Stormvermin fell under the blows of the unit commander, the Plague Monks became hysterical, and their attacks redoubled with violence. Chitik swung his hammer from the bottom up, and hit one of the riders so violently that it flew and crashed a few yards away. Another was shot in the neck by Diassyon, just below his helmet.

After a few minutes, advantage returned to the Skaven. Soon the last marauders turned around and tried to escape the swarming wave of ratmen. The horses were exhausted, some were wounded by the teeth and claws of the sons of the Horned Rat. They were unable to outrun the remaining Skaven.

Moly was more than excited.

- Blood! I want to shed blood!

He turned to his white brother and shouted to his attention:

- Prithee, Psody! Let me go! I want to kill-kill!

The Grey Seer agreed with a nod.

- For once you're motivated, I won't stop you! Pour their guts out on the grass!

- Can I go, too? asked the Warlock Engineer who had barely contain his enthusiasm.

- Go!

Diassyon jumped off the roof with a cry of victory, a pistol in each hand. Moly picked up a mace abandoned by a Clanrat, and ran towards the last villagers, closely followed by Diassyon. They disappeared in the fog, but their jeers and the cries of their victims still echoed.

The sun rose timidly, and its first rays revealed a frightful slaughter. All the men-things were there, on the ground, prostrated in their own blood. The thatched roofs of the most modest houses were burning, the flames were crackling, and the grey smoke irritated the eyes and nostrils of the last one who still was healthy.

Psody the White Skaven stood in the village square. The corpses were piled around him, men-things-men, weird-things and Skaven. But the ratmen had suffered fewer casualties. And the house containing the secrets of Slaanesh was still intact. All his fellows had fought well, he had forgotten Klur's cowardice. He had not even needed warpstone. For the little Grey Seer, the victory was indisputable. Vellux would be very happy. An irresistible intoxication invaded his nervous system.

- Yes! I am the greatest! I am the strongest! Tremble, men-things! Tremble before Psody, the chosen one of the Horned Rat!

He burst into a hearty hysterical laugh and began to dance by jumping from one foot to another and turning in circles, looking up at the sky. He was so happy, so excited, he didn't see the marauder lying face down on the ground, not far from him. It felt life leaving its body slowly but surely, but it didn't want to die alone. It mobilised the little energy it had left to point its crossbow at the small White Skaven.

Chitik entered the place slowly. He laughed when he saw the exaltation of his cadet, but felt the beating of his heart triple in speed as he noticed the weird-thing focusing on Psody. The latter was still unconscious of danger, and continued his wild dance.

- Hey! Psody! Watch out!

The Grey Seer stopped and asked with a surprised smile:

- What?

Without taking the time to answer, Chitik rushed forward towards the weird-thing, and threw himself in front of the White Skaven. The bolt penetrated his chest and remained stuck in his torso. Psody, suddenly shocked, even saw the tip of the dart protrude under the scapula of the Black Skaven. Chitik howled in pain and anger, and brought down his hammer on the attacker. The skull, neck and back of the marauder were dislocated.

The young Grey Seer rushed to the Stormvermin. Chitik was seized with a coughing and desperately tried to catch his breath, without success. He gasped, fell on his knees, then collapsed on his back, threatening to crush the little White Skaven. Psody narrowly dodged him by stepping backwards, then he knelt by Chitik.

The wound was very serious. Streams of blood flowed around the stem of hardened wood, and the Grey Seer guessed the dart had pierced the lung. No more air, but blood, very bad combination. He would surely soon join Skahl.

- My brother-brother...

Psody leant his muzzle down towards the huge Black Skaven. He saw him breathe slowly, growing increasingly weak... He noticed that his eyes were itching. He slipped his finger over his lower eyelid, and was surprised to find a clear and odourless liquid, which left a slightly salty taste on the tip of his tongue.

_- A tear... for such an __idiot__! __It's not __possible!_

Throwing his head back, he cried:

- CHITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIK!

Then he lifted the huge inert head of his brother, and pressed it against his thin chest.

- Not that! Not him! O Horned Rat, if you love your children as they deserve, you must keep this one alive! Take me! I put him in danger! I am the one responsible! Kill-kill Psody here and now, but have mercy on the life of Chitik!

He lowered his head slowly, murmuring more desperately still:

- Mercy! Mercy. Mercy...

- The kind of mercy your lads showed to mine? said an angry voice to his rear.

Psody looked over his shoulder, and his pink eyes met those of a man-thing, deep blue. It was a large male, completely bald. He seemed to have lived for many seasons, and his face was frozen in a stone-hard expression. He wore reinforced leather clothes, stained with blood. A dagger was slipped into his belt, and he held a club soiled with dark marks. It seemed weary, broken, but still in better condition than he, Psody, who didn't feel able to defend himself against it.

- How... how can you speak my language, man-thing?

- I was enslaved by Skaven. They took three years of my life, during which I learned to spit out the same way as you. All that just to serve this cursed Horned Rat you worship!

- My... my brother is dying.

- My wife and children died before me, exterminated by your people! Tell me, why should I let you live, both of you?

- I deserve to die... but not him! He wanted to protect me! It's my fault!

The man-thing looked sternly at the young Grey Seer.

- So do you have any regrets now?

- I don't want him to die! I beg you, help me to save his life!

- You are a Skaven. You have destroyed my village.

- Your village was cursed by the weird-things! They were about to corrupt it!

The villager had every reason not to listen to the small White Skaven and to split his skull with a club blow. Yet deep within him, he detected a tiny spark of pity. This ratman, begging, afraid for the life of one of its kind, didn't behave very differently from any citizen of the Empire in the same position. It looked young, it was not as badly scarred and ruined as those he had faced, perhaps it was not as marked as the others. And what about the marauders? Since the Storm of Chaos, he had heard many tales of lone villages infected by demons. Finally, he spat contemptuously.

- You're lucky I'm not a murderer, unlike you! I'll see what I can do, but you must promise me to help me, and not to try anything against me!

- Yes, yes! I promise, I promise! Come on, man-thing!

- Call me Klaus!

The man looked at the big Black Skaven lying on the ground. He bent and examined the wound.

- A crossbow bolt in the lung... this is a severe injury, but we can try to patch him up. We must move him, we can't leave him in the slush.

He pointed to a wooden device with a wheel and two handles.

- Fetch this wheelbarrow there.

- Me?

- Of course, you! Am I talking to someone else? Move your ass while I stand him up. Go!

Psody was speechless. This man-thing dared to give him an order! But it was to save Chitik, he had to think about nothing else. He ran to the wheelbarrow, and pulled it with its handles. The weight of the thing surprised him, he slipped and crashed his nose into the mud. He got up, cursing, and pushed the barrow to Klaus, who had slowly lifted up the torso of the Stormvermin.

- This dullard weighs a lot! You'll have to help me.

- But...

- No "but"! I can't lift him alone, he's too heavy! Hold him by his shoulders.

Psody leaned against Chitik's back, pushing with all his feeble strength. The villager positioned the wheelbarrow, stood before the legs of the Black Skaven, and put his arms under his pelvis.

- Be careful, when I tell you, lift as high as possible. Put your hands under his armpits. I'll push him onto the wheelbarrow, and pass him over your head. Careful with your horns.

- But... he might crush me!

- One more reason that you don't drop him. You're ready?

- Y... yes.

- So, go ahead and lift!

The White Skaven raised his arms, and felt the blood rush to his head in the effort. Klaus lifted the massive body of the giant ratman slowly but surely.

- I push!

Psody twisted backwards, and found himself on his back. He used his feet to carry the Black Skaven over him. After a long half-minute, Chitik was in the wheelbarrow. Klaus wiped his brow.

- Good! We'll put him on a table. There's a fairly large one in the mess. Follow me!

The man-thing pushed the wheelbarrow to a large building. The little White Skaven hastily opened the door. The villager entered, and propped the wheelbarrow next to a large table, onto which he moved the Black Skaven.

- Now the main dish. There must be a poker in the fireplace. Make it warm, and bring it to me.

Psody saw the pot heating up in the hallway. He approached, and gently picked up the metal bar hanging on a nail. He plunged the tip into the embers.

- Is it necessary, man-thing? Why not a bandage?

- The wound is too severe, it needs to be cauterized, hope it resists inside. Come on!

The White Skaven approached. He hesitated when he saw him unbutton the leather jacket of the Stormvermin, then slowly lift the hem of the garment. Klaus broke the stem of the wood.

- When I press the dart, you pass me the poker, as soon as you can.

- Uh... right.

The villager took a deep breath, then pushed the stem that disappeared into the wound. He almost snatched the ember from the hands of the little ratman, uncovered Chitik's breast and applied the glowing tip onto the wound. The result was a sickening sound, and the White Skaven even saw his elder brother twitching slightly, as if he felt pain in his unconsciousness.

- Stop it, you're going to kill him!

- I'm saving him, you fool! Look carefully, because you'll do the other side!

- What?

Klaus took up the torch, and looked at Psody.

- We'll have to do the same thing on his back. I'll lift him again, I guess your arms are too scrawny to hold him. You'll extract the dart, and cauterize the hole.

- Can't we just reverse him?

- He might fall off the table.

The villager handed the iron rod firmly to the small Skaven. The latter took it with a trembling hand. Then Klaus placed his hands on the shoulders of Chitik, and pulled back, straightening the massive torso of the Stormvermin. Psody saw the bloodied tip emerging from his back, and shuddered with disgust.

- First, you must remove his vest. Go ahead.

With infinite caution, Psody slid the jacket down the massive arms of the Black Skaven with one hand, taking care not to damage the dart.

- Now, you remove the bolt. Do not break it. And after, you do what I did.

Psody bit his lower lip, and took the dart between thumb and forefinger. He pulled gently, the wooden stem did not move. It annoyed him, he pulled harder. The bolt came out at once, and the White Skaven nearly caught it in his snout. Startled, he dropped the dart and the poker on the floor. He groaned in panic as he saw dark red blood flowing freely on Chitik's back.

- I don't believe it! What a slouch! cried the villager.

Psody startled with a cry of fright. Klaus yelled:

- Your Horned Rat has really made you a bum! Pick up this brand immediately and put it on his injury!

- But it's going to hurt-hurt him!

- And if you let the blood flow, he dies! If you want him to live, you must burn the wound, and be quick about it!

Psody hastened to pick up the glowing metal bar and approached Chitik. Klaus continued to hold him. Once again, a horrible sizzle sounded, and a smell of burnt meat assailed the nostrils of the small White Skaven. Klaus felt the big Skaven stirring between his hands. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see what Psody was doing.

- Enough, enough, stop!

The young ratman drew back the brand in haste, and threw it into the fireplace. The villager dropped Chitik on the table and examined him one last time.

- We did what we could. Now it's up to him to decide if he wants to live or die. I have nothing more to do here. I'll visit my graf, I must warn him that Chaos is coming. I have one last advice for you: disappear, both of you. No one will be as accommodating as me!

So saying, he retreated to the door, and left the house. The muddy ground gurgled under his boots. Psody stayed for a few seconds to watch his brother. He was still unconscious, his fur was burned, but he was breathing regularly. The White Skaven gently slipped his hand between the fingers of the Black Skaven.

- I hope you're aware of what I just had to endure for you, Chitik!

He had wanted to speak with a tone of reproach, but had ultimately failed. Suddenly, his fur bristled. He had felt pressure, slight but definitively there.

_You heard me__!_

Excited, he wanted to inform the villager. He turned on his heel, and passed his snout through the doorway. He saw the man-thing away along the way. He tiptoed out, and took a few steps in the direction of Klaus, sniffing the air.

The man-thing stopped, and crouched down to pick something up. The White Skaven continued to watch him, without really knowing what to do, as his eye fell on a musket on the ground. A highly unusual weapon in a small village like this. It seemed ready to be used. Raising his eyes, he noticed that Klaus was still within reach. But would he do that? Getting rid of a man-thing was in his nature. But what about a man-thing who had just saved his own brother from a certain death, to whom he promised peace?

He was still questioning himself, as he saw that the weapon was in his hands. It was heavy, but he could lift it, he had the strength. Yes, the gun was pointed right between the shoulder blades of this arrogant character. Arrogant, and benefactor. Benefactor... but insulting to the Horned Rat. As he heard again his voice cursing: "Your Horned Rat has really made you a bum!", Psody firmly pressed the trigger.

The gun barked, and the ball went whistling and stuck in the back of Klaus. He stopped, then knelt down, and smashed his nose in the mud. Psody dropped the weapon and ran towards his victim. When he was at his side, he knelt down, took him by the shoulders and upturned him. The Human was struggling to catch his breath. He raged:

- They warned me. I'm really too reckless. I let myself feel sorry, and here's the result. Finally, I only have what I deserve.

Psody supported Klaus's eyes, which gradually clouded. The Human chuckled.

- I can see in your eyes... what you're thinking about. I bet you think I'll... I'll ask "why?" Huh? Why did you do that? No! I won't let you have this pleasure... I know exactly why, and you too.

- Ah… so?

- It's not hard to guess! You're a Skaven. A giant rat-faced nuisance. The lie can be read on your face! You breathe the treachery! You... and your brother... and all the others... damn you!

With a raging movement, Psody slashed Klaus' face with his sharp nails. He got up, rolled up his dress and urinated on the villager. Then he looked at him with a meditative eye. In other circumstances, Klaus could have survived, but such a wound, in a deserted and insalubrious place... he wouldn't survive more than one day. However, Psody decided to speed things up. He picked up a fork that was lying on the ground, waved it above his head with his both hands before jabbing it deep into the chest of his victim with a wild yelling. Klaus snorted, and vomited blood, his face frozen in an incredible pain. So, the Skaven straightened and cried with all the strength remaining in him to the sky:

- Yes-yes! I am a Skaven! I am a Son of the Horned Rat! And not just any! I am Psody, one of the chosen ones of our god!


	4. End of a Grey Seer

**WARNING: From this**** point, the quality of the syntax will be much worse. I am French, and even if I can read and have a conversation in the language of Shakespeare, I still have problems with many subtleties.**

**An editor**** of London read and corrected the first three chapters, now I'm alone.**

**I used the**** Google translation tool, but the results may disturb you. I should maybe stop the massacre...**

**I**** apologize in advance for the many mistakes you will probably see. Thank you for your understanding.**

- _Psody! Psody!_

_Diassyon ran towards the White Skaven. He shuddered when he saw his grey dress all stained with blood. The hollow eyes of his younger brother worried him more._

- _Hey, Psody! What happened?_

_The Skryre didn't think. He flung a slap on the cheek of the little Grey Seer, then a second. As he began the movement for a third, Psody raised his arm and exclaimed:_

- _Hey, stop-stop!_

- _Oh... You looked odd!_

_Psody vigorously shook his head and looked around him. He remembered that he was in the middle of a village completely destroyed by his own. How long had he remained dazed amid the corpses of men-things and Skaven Clanrats? Several hours, probably. The day seemed well advanced, the sun even began to descend. He looked down and noticed the body of the man-thing named Klaus, the fork still stuck in his chest._

- _What happened, Diassyon?_

_The brown Skaven was excited._

- _We got them! We caught these worms, and we slaughtered them all, before eating them!_

- _Damn! Did they had a good taste, at least?_

- _Yeah! It was mostly men-things, not weird-thing rotten meat! Here, I've kept a piece for you!_

_Diassyon picked up from his bag a packet of tissue. When opened, Psody saw a whole heart, and his eyes began to shine. He was at once very hungry, and didn't wait longer. He planted his teeth into the meat. The sensation of flesh through his throat and the taste of blood tickling his papilla braced him up._

- _Lots of losses?_

- _Are you kidding? They were too coward-coward to defend!_

- _Speaking about cowards, where is Klur? I saw him scamper!_

- _Well, not surprising! Eshin are all cowards! By cons, you saw Moly?_

- _Moly? Wasn't he with you?_

- _I lost him, he left his side._

- _Hum... When he is not enraged by the smell of blood, he's not capable of thinking. I hope he won't get lost._

- _And... Chitik?_

_Without a word, Psody pointed the men-things canteen. Diassyon rushed inside. The White Skaven swallowed the last bite his meat as he heard a yelp out of the great cabin. He ran at full speed toward the door. His large pink eyes widened in horror at a sinister scene._

_Chitik was still on the table, but had been gutted. His viscera were scattered on the floor. As his head was tuned to the door, the Grey Seer saw his blue eyes fixed, glassy, and his face was contorted in a burst of ultimate suffering. He stepped towards the Black Skaven, and his foot bumped into something. A cry of terror died in his throat when he realised he had walked on the still warm body of Diassyon. The head of the brown Skaven had rolled two feet away._

Fetch Vellux, quick!

_He turned on his heels to escape. But no sooner was he facing the exit he felt something hard and cold through his sternum!_

_His vision blurred, an increasingly fuliginous pain invaded his whole being. He remained lucid enough to see who was at the end of the ornate sword which was tearing his life off. It was a man-thing. A male, large, his cranial fur straw-coloured, and with facial hair. He wore clothes of complex tissues, just like the mayor of Niklasweiler, and a cape of red wool. His expression was determined, he hadn't the slightest regret, but seemed not hating or delighted. No, the White Skaven was rather like seeing someone convicted of having done something not very honourable, but fair._

_He, however, felt an abject anger invading him, which prevailed in a whirlwind of hate the few conscientiousness he had left. It was inexplicable, and yet it was there. This obsessive rage was far beyond which he could normally feel. He remained him just enough strength to rumble through his gritted teeth:_

- _You're dead-dead, you and your friend! I ... I'll kill both of you!_

Psody straightened with a start. Soaked with sweat, he gasped in the darkness of the cell. He saw, not far from him, the hole carved into the stone wall where his master was still asleep. The big White Skaven was wrapped in his blanket, and his slow breathing and wheezing gradually reassured the young Grey Seer. He wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, and blinked.

_What a terrible__ nightmare!_

Yet he hadn't taken warpstone. Another message, from the Horned Rat, or someone else? He thought about what had happened the day before. Contrary to what he had seen, everything had ended well. As Diassyon entered the canteen, he had found Chitik on the table, unconscious but still alive. Moly had joined them smoothly, accompanied by three young Pestilens under his orders and a dozen Clanrats.

The way back to Brissuc had not been done without difficulty. Diassyon gave directives to build a makeshift stretcher to carry Chitik to the den. All the present Skaven expressed surprise, because they used to abandon the too weakened wounded behind. Threats of Psody's magical retaliations were a good argument. The White Skaven had taken the three child-breeders in a small backpack. No other bad encounter on the way, all went well, and the great Black Skaven was now resting in the Stormvermin dormitory in a stable condition. Without daring to show it, the White Skaven had been very glad to hear this new, to the point that he had renounced reprimanding Klur.

_So, why? And who was this man-thing with the sword?_

For a moment he was tempted to wake the great Prophet Grey up, to confide him his fear and pain, but soon he gave up. The leader of Brissuc bedded in a bad mood, unpleasantly surprised by the new initiatives of his disciple. His eyes had been heavy with reproaches than ever.

The young Skaven tried to sleep but could not. Then he slipped out of his bed quietly and left the room. The galleries of Brissuc were never completely deserted, and the Skaven came and went, always running.

He needed a reassuring presence, he knew. The more time passed, the less his master could fulfil this role. He thought Chitik, but joining the Stormvermin during rest hours when you were not a Black Skaven yourself was not a good idea, even for a White Skaven.

- Hey, hey, hello, brother!

Psody turned to face the man who had spoken. It was Diassyon. The brown Skaven wrinkled his muzzle.

- You look bad. Sleep badly?

- Not your business, the White Skaven replied dryly.

- Oh, shame! Night brought me new ideas!

A good opportunity for the little ratman thinking about something else. He asked:

- What ideas?

As whenever his mind was focused on the core business of Clan Skryre, the eyes of young brown Skaven found himself fevered passion.

- You know what the warprail is?

Psody thought. The name told vaguely him something, but he was forced to admit he did not know what it really was.

- No, what is it?

- This is a huge device that connects the major Skaven cities them invented by my Clan. Imagine a sort of great-great metal tank, long enough to carry tens of Clanrats. It runs by itself, without the need of animals or slaves.

- How does it do?

- With a special powerful boiler, which works with steam warpstone. It goes straight through tunnels dug for it. It can connect Skavenblight with Hellpit, and Master Warplock Mabrukk told me that there were other cities that could receive it.

- How to guide such a thing through the tunnels without crashes?

- With a special way called "rail". A rail is a very, very long iron bar which the wheels lay on! There are two bars, one for the wheels on the left of the vehicle, and one for the wheels on the right.

The little ratman tried to imagine such a device.

- And so, what about your idea?

- Well I think I found a way to create a better thing! Imagine a warprail which could go _outside_! Should be added on the front a big-big rig, the same we use to dig the largest tunnels. My chariot could cross all the stone walls to the surface! And if I fix it on special wheels that I still have to invent, it would go anywhere without rails! Just think about the possibilities, brother! It could emerge from anywhere! In the middle of an enemy fortress, after having demolished its foundations!

Diassyon had yelled, and other Skaven had turned to him, eyes questioning. He realised this, and started again. He bent his head forward and whispered:

- It could be an invention even more destructive-destructive than the Wheel of Doom!

The Wheel of Doom... the most infamous invention of Clan Skryre. Psody had never seen one with his own eyes, but his brother had already shown him a model. This machine sowed death on the battlefield when not struck by a malfunction. Two huge wheels, in which galloped overexcited giant rats, crushed everything in their path, allies and enemies, and the wheel-movement-powered electric sting sent in all directions lightning bolts that reduced to dust everything they stroke.

- This will be my final elevation alongside the Horned Rat, my brother!

The small White Skaven was sincerely impressed. He detected in the words of the young Warlock Engineer a possibility. After all... why not? All Skaven of Clan Skryre feared and envied the inventor of the Wheel of Doom, the dreaded Master Warlock Engineer Ikit Claw. This genius became the right arm of Lord of Decay Morskittar, Grand Master of the Clan Skryre. Another Skaven offering an invention with a similar efficacy could probably claim a high place in the hierarchy of the Clan. Then he remembered the Skryre's eternal fantasy.

- This invention... you think you can make it fly up to one of the moons?

The brown Skaven comically scratched his head.

- Maybe. It would take a huge amount of warpstone and powerful engines enough to leave the land without falling, but... I'll think about it. For now, I'll work on this steam chariot-chariot.

Diassyon put his hand on Psody's arm, and led him into a dark tunnel.

- Can I have a word in private, brother?

Psody peeked right and left, and sniffed. No unusual odour, no one in sight.

- We are alone. I'm listening.

The Skryre inhaled deeply, and murmured:

- I think we should beware of Moly.

- Oh yeah? And why?

- I feel he has less good will in his actions-actions. The more time passes, the more he stays mumbling in his corner. And I wonder if he's not becoming a burden, even for Pestilens.

- Don't be too severe, Diassyon. Pestilens are corrupted by the disease and the smoke of their incense. His brain must be rotten. He can still be useful, even if he's just here to take shots for us.

- What if he's thinking about bad things against you?

This time, the little White Skaven didn't answer immediately. This idea didn't seem completely unrealistic. He became a Grey Seer. Skaven bowed their heads before him, but could very well wish his death in his back, including and especially his family

- I understand your concern, Diassyon. I'll try to keep an eye on him. I sincerely hope that you don't "think about bad things against me"!

- Oh, my brother! I know where my interests are!

- Furthermore, we mustn't forget that Pestilens are dominant here. It would be better not to upset them, unless you have a proof-evidence of treason.

The afternoon, Psody was summoned by the Grey Seer Vellux. The latter received in the library, rather coldly.

- You're very morning today.

Psody swallowed discreetly.

- Uh ... Yes, my master. The Horned Rat sent me a new vision, and I had difficulties to understand its meaning.

- You ought to tell me, Psody. You are a Grey Seer, but I remain your master, and you must have no secret-secret for me! Especially when it concerns the messages of the Horned Rat!

- I thought it wasn't important enough to disturb you, o unique light of our colony.

- When it is this subject, do not think! What did you see?

Psody was startled when he heard shouting his master. He caught his breath and articulated:

- Chitik and Diassyon, both dead. Because of a thing-man.

Vellux raised an eyebrow.

- A man-thing? Who?

- I... I do not know. It killed them both, and then it killed me.

The elder of the two White Skaven rubbed his chin.

- Men-things are our enemies, Psody. You're afraid they kill all Skaven around you, and you too. This is normal. The Horned Rat wants to remind you that we must be ruthless against all enemies!

- But... we killed everyone! I shot the last one myself!

- Yes, I know. That is good.

At this moment, the little ratman remembered something.

- And the three small females?

- I have examined them this morning, while you were frisking I don't know where. Unfortunately, we can only use the smallest. The other two were already bewitched.

- Ah? How have you seen it?

Vellux sighed.

- What do you think? I saw their tattoos, and I felt a little magical power in them. So, I dissected them. So I could see their body had developed haphazardly, and fluids containing magic powder particles flowed in their veins. Even if mating one of them was safe for the buck, they could never have produced a healthy offspring.

Psody had not listened to this explanation. His field of vision was obscured by a single image: that of the small Skaven who stretched out her hands with pleading eyes. Then this memory was replaced for a fraction of a second by the image of the unfortunate thing torn, cut on the wooden table of the laboratory, her guts lying on the floor, her eyes wide open, her mouth open in a last silent moan, and this picture coincided with the memory of his previous nightmare. Something else embarrassed him. He had a little shiver when he realised it was his own heart, which was as tighten by an icy paw. Vellux didn't detect this mood.

- Bah! Garog has already placed the youngest in the nursery. Thus, it will offset the one that failed Chitik. A good balance, indeed!

- Uh ... sure, my master. But... why not keep the other ones?

This time, Vellux stared his young assistant in a disturbing look.

- What do you mean?

- They were young, and still in good health... we could have raise them and teach them to do anything else than be knocked up.

- What? Are you kidding?

Psody dared not answer. Vellux hissed in annoyance.

- Listen to me, and remember it well, Psody: females are only good for lay-lay. They give us little Skaven, and most likely become Clanrats. Scholars saw breeders cannot do anything else. If I had kept these two females, it would have brought nothing but trouble. They wouldn't be not strong enough, and would have made crazy all males, who would have fought for a shake-shake before succumbing in the same way that your brother Skahl! Now, I advise you never to think about it again!

- Yes. Right, master. I'm sorry.

He was sincere and bowed his trembling head, as a sign of submission. The older Prophet Grey softened.

- Come on, you're young and bold. You have original proposals. Some are interesting. You just have to remind that millennia of Skaven science are above you. Being visionary is a good thing, but being an incoherent lunatic is not. And speaking of that, I'd like to know what the Hell happened to your mind for bringing back an injured?

The voice of the greater White Skaven had become dangerously louder again. Psody gulped and thanked the Horned Rat for giving him the strength to kill the only witness to the despair that had seized him as he had begged his god to let Chitik alive. He felt a strong discomfort when he smelled the musk of fear emanating from his glands to acidify his nostrils.

_I beg you, Horned Rat, inspire me words that will satisfy my master!_

- I... I wanted to save him.

- And why, my young disciple?

- He's always protected me... I wanted to do the same. He... he is my brother.

The great Prophet Gray exhibited his rotten teeth with a bitter hissing sound.

- Oh yes, he's your brother. You have the same blood, and you have the same flaws! He also disobeys orders! Why do you defend him? Remember how he ridiculed you when I nominated you as Grey Seer!

- I... I think he mostly wanted to... support me, your infinite greatness.

- No. He wanted to commit a sacrilege-sacrilege by subtracting you to your duty.

- A Skaven less intelligent and less perceptive than you would think as well, o king of kings of wises, but... in my opinion... he did it... without thinking... badly.

The little ratman was doing everything possible not to panic and flee for his life. He found something to strengthen his argument.

- Chitik is a moron-idiot, oh incarnate mercy. He did not perceive the importance of warpstone and will never understand the extent of his power. He has not considered the consequences of his actions. You were right to punish him, clairvoyant among clairvoyants, but he learned his lesson, and he redeemed himself efficiently.

The eyes of the White Skaven were no more than two slots from which emerged a green and unhealthy glow. Psody still stuttered between chattering teeth:

- He saved my life. I pray you, he deserves your indulgence. He's a valuable Skaven.

Vellux slowly raised his hand. Psody realised that his master would probably burn him to ashes with a spell. And he was so devoted to him that he didn't think to defend himself. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, convinced never to reopen them. He waited for the curse... but nothing happened. He jumped when his master's voice whispered slowly:

- Are you sure of what you say, my young servant?

- Absolutely certain, supreme authority of our colony! Chitik is the most effective of all Black Skaven who serve me. As we are bound in blood, it motivates him more. He must still rest, to serve me again.

- Psody, my boy, don't forget the Horned Rat ignores the weak and the infirm! Even if it is a Mighty One!

- If the Horned Rat wanted Chitik's soul, would he allowed him to survive? Would he put this man-thing who healed him on my path? I believe the contrary, such a piece of luck is a sign of our God in his favour.

Vellux Psody turned back, putting his hand on his forehead. He stayed so long seconds. Psody felt every inch of her skin soaked with sweat. Finally, the great Prophet Grey turned to his young pupil.

- He really wants to serve you well?

- Absolutely, mightiest of the mightiest. He wouldn't have not risked-risked his life to me, otherwise, I think.

- Hmm... After all, Fangleader Furghân told me he's a good element.

- He is, your magnanimous magnificence. It would be a shame to get rid of him after he resisted this vicissitude.

Vellux sighed.

- Very well. I shall give him one last chance.

Psody fell on his knees.

- Oh! Thank you, a thousand thanks, ultimate expression of kindness and mercy united! I knew your magnanimity was without equal! I give you my word on my life you will not regret it!

- Hmm... You know our laws. Chitik sinned once, I cut off his right ear. The next fault, I cut the other one with the mark of our colony. He'll become a pariah, and all those who help him will be banished with him.

- I swear if he acts once again against the interest of the Sons of the Horned Rat, I kill-kill him myself!

- I hope so, Psody, or I kill you both!

The small White Skaven was astonished. He found good flattery to appease the irascibility of his master, and save the life of his older brother! Or maybe Vellux had enjoyed his arguments? He had no time to think more, while the great Prophet Grey barked:

- Enough waste of time! Go get your three other brothers and ask them to gather three Skaven each. You'll go for a walk.

- What should we do?

- While you were in Maraksberg, Tarhax of Clan Eshin made a report to the Master Assassin Tweezil, who repeated me his news. He spotted a small contingent of weird-things. Their banners bore this sign.

Vellux showed Psody a drawing scribbled on a piece of leather. It was still the circle surmounted by a claw.

- This is the symbol of the weird-thing god Slaanesh!

- Absolutely. This band is not very big, but its presence on our territory is an insult-insult! You'll lead a battalion to destroy it! You'll take Pestilens, Eshin and Skryre! Thirteen Skaven, it will be sufficient!

- Where are these miserable enemies of the Horned Rat, O my master as beautiful-intelligent than kind-magnanimous?

The Grey Seer approached the wall where he hung a large map of the surface. He put his finger on a point southwest of Niklasweiler, the village over the colony.

- Here.

Psody approached, blinked, and saw the large parchment the words "sticky-putrid swamp."

- The weird-things may discover our land if they get too close. So far, Karkadourian didn't spot us, but I think your last foray in Maraksberg has upset him. He must have suspicions that we're here, maybe one day his creatures will eventually find us, but he must understand this land is ours, and we won't go!

- Yes! Yes! Master, they will regret for coming!

The great Prophet Grey energetic handed an index to the door.

- Now, go-go! Come back when you have killed-killed all weird-things!

Psody knelt and bowed his head, then he got up and quickly left the study.

Vellux leaned out the window of the observatory. He saw the small figure of his disciple running to the Skryre district. He heaved a deep sigh, and picked up from a small cabinet a candle made of soaked dried blood wax. He took out his lighter, lit the fuse, and put the candle on the wooden edge. The flame emitted a strong blood red glow.

Psody was tired, his feet hurt. The procession was walking for several hours, and he wasn't used to. Normally Chitik wore him on his back, but obviously this time it was impossible. The little Grey Seer had ordered one of the three young Skaven of Clan Skryre to serve as a mount, but the unfortunate ratman was quickly exhausted. None of the other Skaven in the group had proved resilient enough, and of course, the young ratman didn't want to approach one of the Pestilens.

- Stop-stop!

The whole procession stopped. Psody sat on an old tree stump, and massaged his feet. He noisily sucked mucus that filled his nostrils, and considered the situation. The group progressed through a putrid swamp. Although it was broad daylight, the Skaven were not bothered by the sun, as a greenish and compact mist mitigated sunrays, giving a murky twilight lighting. Vegetation was ugly and intrusive, with twisted and blackish trees, slipping foam and some bushes with thorns. The show was not just visual: a wide range of sounds echoed in the ears of the sons of the Horned Rat. Croaking almost as powerful as burping of a rat-ogre, strange roars, flatulence gas pockets, squeaking of unsightly birds. Among the thirteen Skaven, none of them had ever ventured so far from the colony. Klur, Diassyon, Moly and Psody could evolve on the surface without being too confused, but the others weren't at ease – indeed, none of them had left the undergrounds of Brissuc.

Moly shuddered on hearing a sinister howling in the distance. He turned to his younger brother.

- Psody... I'm scared.

- I thought your potions cut off your emotions, quipped the Grey Seer.

- I haven't taken my dose. And then, I feel unwell, this mission.

One of the young Skaven of Clan Skryre spat and moaned:

- Me too-too, I'm afraid. What are we doing here?

- This is not here there's fight-fight! an Eshin protested.

- Yeah! We're useless here! growled a Pestilens. Let's go!

Hearing these words, Psody jumped up and widened his angry eyes towards the one who had just spoken. He raised his hand, and sparks flew from between his fingers.

- Grey Seer Vellux gave us orders, and we will obey! You dare challenge the word of the Horned Rat?

The Pestilens squeaked in panic and flattened his face to the ground, trembling like a leaf. There was a heavy silence, during which no one moved. Five long seconds passed. The White Skaven asked in a loud voice:

- Answer me! You obey my orders without question?

- Y... Yes, oh great omniscient, murmured the young Plague Monk, his voice sip with terrified sobs. Forgive... forgive me.

Psody lowered his hand, and growled:

- Come on, get up, Pestilens! You make me pity enough.

Then, turning to his older coal-coated brother fur:

- Klur?

- Yes, brother?

- Try to smell something!

In a heartbeat, the Gutter Runner climbed up a big tree black. He lifted his muzzle and sniffed carefully. After a few seconds, he pointed to the south.

- A supernatural stench comes from over there.

- Then go see, and come back to tell me what it is!

Klur jumped forward, made two flips before receive smoothly on the ground. He bent forward and ran nose to knee height, as did the Gutter Runners. He was master of the field, and no sound came from beneath his toes.

The young Grey Seer took advantage of a little break to review the group Vellux had given him.

Apart from his three brothers, there were three Skryre, three Pestilens and three Eshin. All were young, and none bore the mark of the colony on his ear. Vellux had asked Klur, Moly and Diassyon to choose novice Clanrats, so that skirmish would be the test of their transition to adulthood. It was a gamble. They were as lucky to get out alive and become immediately confirmed and seasoned adults that end up in the state of corpses squared by weird-things.

The three Skryre were at the bottom. Like Diassyon few moons ago, they were skirmishers. Each had a warplock pistol and a small purse containing powder and primers on his waist. They were the most uncomfortable. All this scaffolding of vegetation contrasted with their love for technology and iron machines. The smaller bit nervously the tip of his tail. The biggest hopped from one foot to the other, unable to sit still.

The three Eshin checked again their equipment. Each had the characteristic signs of Skaven chosen to exercise the art of causing death silently. All were rather small, to sneak into closest ducts, and their fur was very dark. With their intensive training, their limbs were thin, but nervous, and their strength was greater than untrained eye could imagine. One of them checked the contents of his bag. The White Skaven knew he was destined to become a Sorcerer, though he was unhorned and his fur was dark grey. Indeed, Eshin had imported from the country from where the sun raised the arcane arts of assassination, as well as mastery of the shade mystic arcane.

So was practiced magic for Skaven: Grey Seers were the mouth and the arm of the Horned Rat and channelled his power, Eshin Sorcerers subjected darkness, and Plague Deacons modelled magic winds to make disease vectors and corruption with. At this thought, the eyes of the little ratman fell to the group of Monks.

As usual, the Pestilens were away. Moly was recognizable by his purple frock, unlike the three novices Plague Monks dressed in green. They were sitting in the mud, in a circle, all headlong meditating. One lifted his bottom and remained crouching, high revving sounded, followed by the sound of a small soft thing falling in the mud, then he sat down again, as if nothing had happened. His neighbour, the Pestilens who had protested, trembled and dared not even look in the direction of the White Skaven.

Always on the stump, the little Grey Seer had his brain buzzing. He thought even the decisions of his master. Was it really in the interest of the whole band to be composed of a dozen Skaven, with three quarters composed by mice barely out of the den? He was still looking for the answer to this question, when a small voice dragged him from his thoughts.

- Grey Seer Psody?

- Yeah?

It was a young Eshin who had spoken, a dark grey Skaven named Syonel. Accordance with custom, he spoke nose down, acknowledging the inferiority of his rank.

- I wanted to tell you... you're very lucky. I envy you.

- I didn't choose to be a chosen-chosen one. The Horned Rat chose me.

- Yes, but... I didn't mean it. I was talking about Klur.

This time Psody felt perplexed waving furrowing on his forehead.

- What?

- Well... You are close to him. I'd like to be so close, and to look like him. He will become a great assassin... and then, he's well built.

The White Skaven wrinkled his muzzle. He looked at his anthracite brother who continued his tracking off, and finally understand where the young Syonel meant.

It was true that, for a Skaven, Klur was remarkable. While most Skaven showed old wounds, some dating back to their early childhood, the Eshin had always avoided the blows and survived battles without sequel. His whole body was a formidable weapon, which he took great care in maintaining everyday. He was slim, but his muscles gave him a figure both nervous and graceful. His face had suffered none deformity or scar. Even the removal of musk glands each Eshin had to endure didn't let any apparent trace on him. In retrospect, the Grey Seer thought the anthracite Skaven had probably inherited the undeniable physical harmony of the Horned Rat.

_In a word, he is... beautiful._

He decided not to let go of thinking about these trivialities. Klur was actually coming back to the group.

- They are straight ahead, near a large pond of standing water. I saw them off.

- There's a lot?

- Maybe a dozen.

- We're getting closer.

The little procession returned. As they saw a sign from Klur they slackened pace, and went to the ground. They climbed a small hill. Reached the top, they could see the topography

The swamp began more openly a few dozen yards beyond their position. As explained by the Eshin, land disappeared under the muddy surface of the brackish water. The White Skaven distinguished through the rising fog three small groups of people gathered around campfires, around a piece of water deeper that formed an irregular circle. Each group had four or five warriors, male men-things with tanned skin clothes and primitive weapons. Psody squinted in craning forward, and finally noticed, his eyes focusing on the closest, they had an unusually purple skin colour. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and remembered an explanation of his master.

Two seasonal cycles earlier, as he was still a small ratling, the weird-things had launched an attack of unprecedented magnitude of the Empire of men-things. From the distant northern land, slaves demons had caused death and destruction in their wake, but were eventually stopped near a large citadel of men-things perched on a mountain. Weird-things troops were removed and scattered across the world. It was possible that some of them survived and joined their fellows into places such as the area of the colony.

It wasn't going to change anything. Psody didn't know where these marauders came from, but he knew where they would go definitively.

- Good! Three groups like us. They are a little more, but we'll surprise them. Diassyon?

The brown Skaven put his backpack on the floor, then straightened his two warplock pistols, and his warplock jezzail on his back with a leather thong. He opened his bag and pulled out curious instruments.

- Here are the mini-breathwell!

Each of the three skirmishers placed on his nose a leather mask recovering his full face. Their eyes were protected by small round glasses, and a large holed box pointing to their mouths. Diassyon was proud of this new invention. He had inspired of Clan Skryre classic gas masks, much heavier and bulkier for Warlock Engineers who had to wear a tank of fresh air on their back. He called his invention the "mini-breathwell". This object had limited autonomy, and was probably not very effective on a great battlefield where noxious gases spread per hectolitre, but for a surprise attack on a small scale, it was ideal.

If it functioned.

Diassyon went with precautions small shiny objects, as big as his fist. Four transparent glass globes, in which floated a smoke with greenish reflections. He gestured to the three apprentices Skryre, and gave one to each.

- This is a gas that falls asleep. When they do sleep, we may rip them.

- Why not a gas that kills instead? grumbled one of the Skryre.

Diassyon slapped his neck.

- When you're a Skaven citizen able to use his eight fingers without mixing them! Not before!

The young Skryre lowered his head and mumbled. The little Grey Seer aloud elaborated an attack plan.

- We'll attack these weird-things at the same time. So they won't have the time to understand what happens to them. Attention! We must attack at exactly the same time, it is crucial-crucial! Diassyon, you will use your gas globes. Klur?

- Yep! We're going to curry them instantly.

- Moly?

No answer. Psody turned to the group of four Pestilens, still in a circle, without the slightest sign of attention. The young white ratman squeaked angrily:

- Moly! You're dreaming, or what?

The cream Skaven blenched.

- Uh! Oh... I...

- By the Horned Rat, Moly! This is an important mission! You know what you gotta do, at least?

- I… I mean _we_ kill weird-things.

- How?

- With the Contagion of the Horned Rat...?

A minority of Clan Pestilens used magic to corrupt living beings and inanimate matter. All other, more simply, attacked their enemies on contact. Drugs and disease affected their brain to plunge them into a killer frenzy as their infected nostrils perceived the scent of blood. A troop of unbridled Plague Monks could be quite a thorn in the side of any opposing regiment. The most enduring – and moreover the most degenerate – were nominated Censer Bearers and smashed their enemies with great flairs containing burning warpstone into the hollow steel ball. Generally, the Pestilens defiled their weapons in order to transmit their diseases, and no chance to their victims.

- Well, what are you waiting for? Prepare yourself! And you, wake up!

The four Plague Monks rose painfully. Psody grouched by considering them:

- You're lucky to stink as much and be as rotten, otherwise I would have kicked twice each one of you!

Without answering, Moly tucked the left sleeve of his frock, and went out of its sheath a long rusty dagger. He passed the tip along the length of his forearm. Black blood dripped on his fur. The Pestilens passed methodically the corroded blade on the wound several times in order to smear its entire surface. He lifted his muzzle and saw that the three apprentices were gazing him hesitantly. He sniffed, spat on the nearest and whined:

- Do it, you wimps!

And the three young Skaven obeyed. One of them moaned and whimpered feeling the steel biting his still soft and healthy flesh. Moly rewarded him with a slap behind the ear. During this little ceremony, the Eshin had taken the time to sharpen their knives once again.

Finally, the Skaven band was ready for the assault. Satisfied, the little White Skaven considered them all, hands on hips, and took a good breath.

- Courage! When you return to the colony as winners, you will be rewarded. I shall ask Vellux to let the best of you have a mating with a breeder. And tomorrow, you will be appointed as citizens! Now I remind you the strategy-strategy. I'll stay here on this hill, to watch you. In case of problems, the focal point will be that big tree.

And to support this declaration, the young Grey Seer tucked up his dress and applied a bit of urine on the big black trunk. His brown brother put his own mini-breathwell while he continued.

- You, Eshin, you attack the farthest group. Pestilens, you take the weird-things that are right, you will be downwind and they won't smell you. And the Skryre will take care of this little bunch to the left, near the lake. Each of the three Clans will approach as close as possible without being seen. When I see that you are all in position, I'll wait a few moments, then I'll imitate the cry of the bat. At this moment, you attack all at the same time. It is very, very important to be at the same time, so they do not have time to react! From here, I observe. I can call the magic of the Horned Rat on our enemies, but don't forget that I'll personally take care of cowards and weak! Is that understood? Diassyon, Moly, Klur, go!

The three Skaven brothers nodded at the same time, then each went on one side, followed by his three thugs. Psody sat on a big rock, and opened widely his pink eyes.

On his left, he saw four Eshin, crawling at lightning speed. The grass barely stirred around them. Accordance with its instructions, Pestilens skirted the lake on the right, head bowed. There was no reaction from the bizarre things. Finally, Skryre sneaked into the campfire weird things at the foot of the hill.

At this moment, the small White Skaven noticed the fog was denser. A vaporous veil covered the panorama, preventing distinguish details, and soon he even had trouble finding his ratmen. He guessed more than he saw the Skryre. He eventually see Pestilens, and Eshin. As all looked ready for action, he stood up, took a deep breath and whistled three times the most strident he could.

Diassyon felt his ears stand on his head.

- Now!

The four Skryre arose and threw their globe on their target. The glass balls broke in contact with the solid earth. A large green cloud rose above the fire. The marauders grunted in surprise, putting their hand on their weapon, but did not have time to defend themselves. Diassyon's gas proved very effective, and the weird-things quickly plunged into unconsciousness. The four Skryre pounced on their prey silently and bite them to death.

Psody chuckled seeing the Skryre dealing with the weird-things. He squinted to Eshin. Angry hissing, noise plunging knife between shoulders confirmed that the Skaven assassins were doing their job. He turned to Pestilens, and choked, stunned. The weird-things were not attacked! Instead, they had spotted the young Monks and began to molest them!

- What the...?!

He ran down the hill at full speed, tripped and tumbled over it down the last yards. While running, he raged between his teeth and cursed his brother Moly a thousand times. He arrived just in time to see one of the young Monks tearing off the heart of one of the marauders. The last standing weird-thing raised his axe, ready to plunge it into the skull of one of the Pestilens acolytes. A flash of green energy thrown by the Grey Seer blew his stomach up.

Psody caught his breath and looked at the situation. Chaos Warriors had all succumbed to the onslaught of angry Pestilens, but one of the young acolytes lied on his back, dead. The young white ratman was furious. He clenched his fists in rage, and yelled at both Plague Monks.

- Fortunately they didn't get reinforcements! What the Hell were you doing?

- We... we were waiting for the signal, one of them whispered.

- What? But I _gave_ the signal!

- Moly… Moly didn't tell us to go, replied the other.

- He told us to wait...

The White Skaven could not believe his ears, or eyes. With the fog, he did not realise his brother had disobeyed his orders, and had left his position.

- Moly!? By the Horned Rat! Where is this bloody Pestilens?!

- He said ... he said he heard a strange noise. He went to see what it was.

- My brother! yelped the voice of Klur.

The Gutter Runner came limping to the three Skaven. He seemed worried.

- What, now? cried Psody.

- I saw something here. I think there's a weird-thing practicing magic!

- A magician weird-thing? repeated the Grey Seer, frowning. Where?

- Follow me, no noise!

Psody didn't hesitate. If there was one weird-thing able to use magical powers, he was the only one who can face and overcome it. His Grey Seer duty was to destroy it himself. He turned to the two young Pestilens and ordered:

- Join Diassyon and do what he says. Now!

The two acolytes spun suddenly, one of them went sprawling in the mud.

They quickly joined Technomage. Diassyon stared surprised.

- What are you doing here?

- Grey Seer Psody told us to obey you, one of them muttered.

The brown Skaven thought for a moment, then replied:

- Okay, okay. Follow me, I think other weird-things are coming!

Two other Skaven joined them. It was the apprentice mage and one of the young Eshin Night Runners. Once again, the Warlock Engineer wondered.

- Hey, where is Klur?

- He left with Syonel, they spotted weird-things!

- He told us to join you, specified the apprentice mage.

_Well, if__ it has to be... After all, I'm the oldest!_

And the more responsible, except Psody, that was not there. He counted aloud:

- Three Skryre, two Pestilens, two Eshin... Good! You, the Night Runner, can you do as did Klur earlier and smell our enemies?

- Of course, of course! replied proudly the small dark grey Skaven.

No sooner said than done, he climbed a dead tree, and breathed loudly through his nose. Then he pointed to the direction opposite to that of the rendezvous tree.

- There's something coming over here!

Diassyon nodded, and took one of the skirmishers – a spotted-fur Skaven named Tafya – by the arm.

- Come with me, we'll see what it is. You guys stay here!

The brown Skaven, flanked by his sidekick, walked a few hundred yards. They walked slowly and painfully, muddy water slowed their steps. Tafya put his hand on the shoulder of his elder.

- Diassyon...

- Shh! What?

- I... I hear voices!

Indeed, raucous bursts approached. Both Skaven knelt in unison, both hidden by the tall grass, the water coming up to their waist. The Warlock Engineer slowly picked his two pistols from their holster up. The young skirmisher shuddered when he felt the icy touch of the butt of his own warplock pistol. It was the first time he would use the weapon of Clan Skryre in real conditions. Diassyon noticed and whispered:

- Don't think. When I say "shoot", you get up, you aim a weird-thing, you press the trigger, and you hiding. The surprise works every time.

- Okay... Tafya stammered.

The Skryre hadn't senses as sharp as a Moulder, like had been his younger brother Skahl. And yet he was accustomed to distinguish different smells to count enemies. Beyond half a dozen subjects, he couldn't obviously make a difference, but he felt this time they were fewer. He firmly clenched the hilt of his arms.

- Ready, Tafya?

- Er... yes.

- Then shoot-shoot!

Diassyon jumped. Three men-things with purplish and covered with tattoos skin combed the tall grass, and uttered surprised exclamations seeing the two Skaven. The brown Skaven pointed his two weapons on two of the marauders, and shot them in quick succession. The young Tafya uttered a loud cry, the detonation of his pistol thundered, the tattooed man-thing fell.

Diassyon ran to the marauder third, examined, and then announced to the young skirmisher with a big smile:

- Bull's-eye!

He laughed and Tafya laughed in turn, suddenly he gave a terrified yelp. The brown Skaven widened hallucinated big eyes seeing a long coarse blade emerging from the sternum of his comrade. Blood spurted in scarlet showers. The little skirmisher was projected on the side by a weird-thing with scaly skin and a fish head. Diassyon blew rage understanding that this being could have taken them by surprise by swimming silently in the shallow waters of the swamp. He jumped on the weird-thing and slashed its thin long neck with his claws. Skaven were known for their lightning speed, rightly.

Psody was running through the fog, heeling the Gutter Runner. After two long minutes of racing, they came to another large pool of water.

- You saw Moly? asked the Eshin.

- No. He disappeared I don't know where!

- Where can he be? The Eshin asked nervously.

- Diassyon was right, he's really uncontrollable!

- Hey, look!

Klur pointed something. The White Skaven distinguished a figure in the mist at the water's edge. He recognized his brother Plague Monk violet homespun.

- Ah, finally! Good-for-nothing! You sleep, or what?

Psody was so angry he was tempted to unleash a storm of destructive magic on the Pestilens. But there was no reaction from the Skaven, not even a spurt. The anger of the Grey Seer transformed gradually into astonishment. He had the intuition something was wrong. He slowly approached the Plague Monk, and put his hand on his shoulder.

- Moly?

He leaned forward and saw the muzzle under the hood of the frock. It was not Moly, but Syonel, the young Eshin assassin. If he had not responded, it was because he was dead, his throat cut.

- What the...

A violent explosion of pain suddenly slashed the back of the Grey Seer. He turned, tears in his eyes, and his eyes widened when he saw the anthracite Skaven with one of his knives out. Blood dripped from the rusty blade.

- Klur?! What are you doing?

- I'm doing what I should have done for a long time!

Klur jumped forward and turned on himself. His long ringed tail whipped in the chest the White Skaven who fell backwards.

- You do not understand anything!

The Eshin grabbed Grey Seer by the collar of his dress, forced him to get up and slapped him, without letting go.

Psody looked into his eyes, horrified. The pain was unbearable, but was nothing compared to that on his psyche. He couldn't understand what was happening was real. Of course, the betrayal was common among the Sons of the Horned Rat, and even the Grey Seers were not immune to cheap shots. Since their first meeting, the Gutter Runner figured prominently among potential traitors in the minds of the young White Skaven. And yet, he ended by imagining that blood binds would improve their relationships. Since his appointment as Grey Seer, the anthracite Skaven had changed and had become more respectful. How such a change could happen?

- How can you do this to me... my brother?

- Don't tell me you've swallowed this crap-crap about siblings!

This statement made in a voice colder that groundwater finished sticker shock the little man-rat. He stammered in vain:

- No crap, Klur... We are stronger together... really!

- No. The "blood ties" are only a man-thing weakness, and don't exist for Skaven. Only morons like Chitik or fools like Diassyon can believe such nonsense. And you, you have too much different ideas! We don't like it!

- "We"? Who, "we"?

Klur didn't answer, he gave him a punch in the stomach. Psody squeaked, and found himself gasping on his knees. With a sneer angry, Klur passed behind him, gripped his arm, and plunged him into the muddy water of the swamp. Then he firmly grasped the two horns that remained over the surface, and pushed to maintain the head of the White Skaven underwater.

- Die-die, unworthy son of the Horned Rat!

Psody had more and more difficulty breathing. His panic worsened as he felt muddy water passing into his nostrils and mouth. His wound was biting his entire spine, and he felt that even without it, he was not sufficiently strong to resist the grip of his brother's hands. Soon everything became dark, he heard nothing more, felt nothing but a freezing cold embrace him inexorably, and his mind swung in limbo.

Klur saw that there was no longer any air bubbles bursting on the surface of the water. The body of the Grey Seer was still, and the pond was tinged with blood. He released the pressure and raised his blade again, ready to strike. But the White Skaven did not move.

_I did. I made it! I killed a Grey Seer!_

Klur was tempted to shear him a horn off as a trophy, but forgot it. Kill a Grey Seer was both a feat and a sacrilege.

_If the others understand... If Chitik learns it... I would not give much of my skin!_

A wicked smile stretched his facies. The Black Skaven was too stupid to suspect the truth. All he had to do was to justify this loss.

The anthracite Skaven straightened in a jump when he heard the rocky voice of marauders charging again.

_The Horned Rat is with me! Here they are, the sacrilegious killers!_

Satisfied, Klur kicked the young Grey Seer, who moved slowly, and was driven by a small stream. After that, he jumped into the bushes and disappeared into the dusk. The little body was quickly away and disappeared into the mist.

When he returned to the place where he had left his skirmishers, Diassyon felt the smell of panic emanate from his glands. This musk, mixed with that of his comrades, made him more nervous. He squeaked:

- I don't believe-believe it! What's going on?

Other weird-things had attacked his fellow during his brief absence. They defended themselves effectively, and the bodies of tattooed warriors dragged in the mud, but instead of gathering, young Skaven behaved completely absurd; the Eshin sorcerer was crushing with a stone the head of a Pestilens who was screaming with laughter despite his broken jaw. A young Skryre was climbing on the second, both uttered lewd howls. And the last two, an Eshin and a Pestilens, were running and jumping in all directions, imitating animal sounds.

It was then that he saw a man-thing female, its breasts protruding over its leather jerkin. Its arms were raised, and it recited in a monotone voice abstruse syllables. Pink flames crackled around its hands.

Diassyon was not as versed in the field of magic as in technology, but he knew how to recognize a witch when he saw one. The she-thing had the same attitude as Psody when he invoked the power of the Horned Rat. He understood that, in one way or another, this female made crazy his fellow like the villagers of Niklasweiler.

_Everything will stop if I make it shut up!_

And the best way to proceed imposed by itself. In a heartbeat, his faithful warpstone jezzail found himself in his hands. He pointed his gun at the she-thing and pulled the trigger. The ball went over a thunderclap, and the female collapsed with hysterical laughter. She had not had time to watch him, and then cast on him a curse that would make him lose control.

Once the witch eliminated, the young Skaven quickly recovered. The Eshin mage threw his stone in panic and yelled before leaving the corpse of the infected Pestilens. The two stimulating Skryre ceased their pseudo-mating, looked each other, bewildered, and drove each other with anger and disgust. The Eshin Night Runner and the last Plague Monk froze and sat on the ground, exhausted. The Warlock Engineer searched in vain, no sign of Psody nor Klur, or Moly.

_By the Horned Rat, where are they?_

He had no time to think more. A long serious complaint sounded in the distance. The sound of a horn regiment. Other weird-things were coming! Something whistled through the air, and the Night Runner fell with a desperate squeak, a crossbow quarrel lodged between his ribs.

Diassyon distinguished forms of weird-things warriors in the mist. They were more numerous, and facing them was nothing but a guaranteed suicide. He decided to take the initiative he thought best. He tore his mini-breathwell off, threw his head back and shouted with all his might:

- Run away!

He didn't need to repeat it. With the promptness which the Sons of the Horned Rat could show, the five Skaven scattered in all directions.

Chitik slowly opened his eyes. He had only a few fragments of memories of what had happened to him. He vaguely remembered Maraksberg in flames, his younger white brother dancing like an imp, then this weird-thing with crossbow. A sharp pain tore him a tear acute. He lowered his muzzle and saw that his chest had been burned by something. Another unpleasant feeling awoke in his back. Looking around, he recognized the Stormvermin dormitory, which was empty. How long had he been unconscious? Where were his brothers?

He raised his head painfully as he heard the door open. He stared surprised.

- Grey Seer?

Vellux was there. A serious expression weighed his strokes.

- Finally, you're awake.

- What happened?

- You were badly injured-wounded, you were brought here, and I've cured you. Others wanted to let you die on the spot, but I insisted for saving you.

_A good way to keep him obeying_, thought the Grey Seer, proud of his lie. He stood beside the straw bed of the Black Skaven.

- Chitik, I have a bad new.

- What?

- Your brother Psody has been killed today.

Chitik didn't respond. His breath failed him too much. Vellux continued:

- I sent it make a scouting mission with your other brothers, but weird-things have come. He defended himself the best he could, but the servants of Chaos were too strong.

- Oh... my... no!

- He's dead-dead, Chitik. And it's your fault! If you had not been here, as the weakling-wimp you are, you would have accompanied and protected him!

Chitik felt his heart stop when he heard the harsh voice of the Grey Seer. He could not stop the tears in his eyes. Vellux slashed his cheek with his long dirty fingernails. As he saw the dazed look of the great Black Skaven, he spat:

- Needless to cry! He would still be alive if he had been able to take care of himself!

- But…

- No "but", Chitik! Tomorrow, you'll pledge allegiance to Plague Deacon Soum, with your brothers. I sincerely hope you'll serve him better than Psody!

He left the Stormvermin dormitory without giving him time to respond. Anyway, the poor Black Skaven was too shocked to be able to say anything.

- It is a terrible misfortune that has descended on our terrier, O beautiful representative of the Horned Rat.

- I know, Deacon Soum. Unfortunately, his destiny-fate was sealed by our god, and I couldn't do anything to prevent it.

- With your permission, supreme leader resplendent indulgent kindness, I'll organise in the coming hours a wake. The Horned Rat despises fallen Clanrats because they were weak, but I don't want our colony offset him by neglecting one of his chosen-chosen ones.

- I think so. You'll do it.

Put an embarrassing task on the back of another was part of the Skaven lifestyle of Skaven, at all levels, including leaders. Grey Seer Vellux was not in a happy mood. Even though he was the one who decided to shorten the life of his disciple, he still felt a hint of regret. He would miss the little ratman.

_He could have been really useful! If only he hadn't inherited this insatiable curiosity!_

Plague Deacon Soum had no idea what the White Skaven was feeling. He smoothly murmured:

- I would like to personally express my support in this dark hour, glorious incarnation of wisdom and intelligence combined.

- That's nice from you, Soum. But it's not going to solve the biggest problem.

- What is the problem? I can maybe help you find a solution?

- I doubt. This is the emptyness left by the death of my protégé.

- Ah! Well, I do not see what I could do.

- The situation is simple, Deacon, I must have a new apprentice. However, nobody in this terrier was capable of generating a Skaven White for years.

- But... Psody was your son, O most omnipotent all omnipotent, wasn't he? asked Soum. You can make another?

The White Skaven slowly turned toward the Deacon. He glared at him.

- Since my arrival here, eight seasonal cycles ago, I was too busy listening to the words of the Horned Rat to satisfy such a primitive need. Psody was not my blood. And I don't know what Skaven sired the breeder that spawned him. Indeed, this is not a bad idea.

He ordered Deacon follow him in a gesture, and both crossed the colony to reach the area of breeding nurseries. Vellux opened the door of the main barrack, and called:

- Garog!

The Ratwife Chief was before the Grey Seer in an instant.

- Yes, your high highness?

- How many breeders are ready to be planted?

- Five, o Grey Seer, replied the other without hesitation.

- Perfect. You'll put them in the same cell. Soum, make arrangements, I entrust you the command of the burrow. For the next two days, I'll be available for no one.

Plague Deacon flattened on the ground, overcome with gratitude before leaving the nursery humming.

The next night, Chitik had to sleep in a separate anteroom. His desperate moans had prevented his fellow to sleep, they had quickly thrown him away from the dormitory.


	5. The true face of Brissuc

Moly of Clan Pestilens painfully opened his eyes. He saw that his face was half-submerged in the mud. He stood up as well as possible by relying on the hands. His head was spinning more than usual, and several small pains pricked him here and there. Besides, he felt a little cold wind on his back, and shuddered. Night had fallen, which did not bother his accustomed to the darkness Skaven senses. However, he had quite a headache.

_What happened? I've been hit in the back! How long have I been unconscious?_

He fumbled where the pain radiated and grimaced as it intensified. He felt something sticky smudge his hair. Blood. The shock had flayed the skin of his skull. Another memory came to him: a strange noise, something catching his attention. He had asked his three young Pestilens to wait, then arrived to the tree that stood before him. A slight crunch had sounded in his back, then a shock to the back of his skull had precipitated on the muddy ground.

He began slowly standing, and had a nasty surprise.

_What the... I'm completely nude!_

Indeed, apart from his mouldy strips partially covering his arms, feet and face, he had nothing on him. Panicked, he looked everywhere.

_Where is my frock? Clothes! Anything!_

His breathing accelerated with the rise of his anguish and fear exuded from every pore of his skin. He asked the Horned Rat not to meet anyone. It was already humiliating for a Skaven to be seen in the nude, but for him, a Pestilens aware of having a body ravaged, nothing could be worse.

_Shit! Psody spoke of something... A rallying point!_

He sniffed the air furiously, and finally perceived the fragrance of his white brother urine. He ran in the direction he thought good. Death anxiety, he groaned "hope nobody sees me, hope nobody sees me!". Finally, he saw the big tree at the top of the hill. He also saw the lake where the disastrous attack took place. Suddenly, he spotted one of his colleagues, fell under the blows of Chaos marauders. Quickly, he rushed to the body like a fiend. He undressed the corpse, and put the filthy rags on. He pulled the hood over his head, and heaved a sigh of alleviation.

He reconsidered his situation. He was alone in the middle of the swamp, his brothers and his allies had probably thought he was dead. Either they were dead. He was cold, hunger also began to gnaw his stomach. He decided to act, and went in the direction he thought good.

He followed the smell, and congratulated himself for having taken the initiative to leave traces regularly throughout the journey. Of course, lots of fragrances floated in such a place, but even Pestilens were able to recognise the scent of their urine for long distances. He growled. His leg ached, and his head was spinning. He fumbled in the pocket of the pants, hoping to find something to alleviate these feelings. He found a few pieces of mushroom.

The Plague Monk grimaced. His body was accustomed to much more powerful drugs, it would have virtually no effect. He still resolved to stuff the mushrooms into his mouth and chewed. After a minute, he felt the pain in his knee decreasing. It was better than nothing.

The hours passed, more and more painful. In the distance, he saw the sky gradually tinting with an orange veil. The sun rose. He was out of the swamp, and now trotting on a small path that weaved between fields. He quickened his pace as well as possible, more and more worried. He had studied the habits of men-things, and knew very well they used to work all day once the sun was high enough in the sky. The danger of getting caught seemed bigger than he had ever felt before. Unlike Klur, he was not very talented to run or hide, and his injuries handicapped him more.

Finally, he spotted the small hill near Niklasweiler. He cast a quick glance toward the village, and saw with horror lights in the windows of some houses.

_The village has not been completely abandoned! Or other men-things have arrived! I must inform the Deacon!_

He burned his remaining strength to climb to the top of the hill. He clung to the grass with his hands to climb faster. Once at the top, he threw himself into the burrow. He ran another thirty seconds, then he stopped and fell to the floor. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

_Safe... The Horned Rat decided to be lenient with me._

He rolled onto himself, laid on his back, and murmured in a whisper:

- Thank you, o Horned Rat.

He stood so an indefinable time, then restarted his way.

When he arrived in the habitable zones of Brissuc, other Skaven spotted him, surprised to see him in such a bad condition.

- Hey, it's Moly of Clan Pestilens!

- Wow! What happened to him?

- Fetch Soum!

Moly felt a new dizzy exhaustion overthrow the world around him. He found himself on his knees, unable to move further.

- Moly! Moly!

The Pestilens raised his head and saw Diassyon rushing toward him. He made a vague gesture with his hand.

- It's okay, it's okay. Let me be.

- Moly! I thought these slobs killed-killed you, too!

- I'm fine, I tell you. Leave me in peace.

- Moly... Psody is dead!

The brain of the creamed-fur Skaven took a few seconds to assimilate this terrible news, and react accordingly. He missed breath, and found himself again face against the ground.

- Moly! Wait, my brother! Hold on!

Diassyon wanted to help his brother get up by sliding his arm under his armpit. But no sooner had he put his hand on the back of the Plague Monk that the latter blenched and barked at him:

- DON'T TOUCH ME!

The Warlock Engineer jumped back and stood motionless, petrified by such an explosion of rage. The Pestilens had his eyes bulging with anger under his hood, and breathed loudly, whistling between his incisors. Diassyon swallowed hard.

- I... I did not...

Moly realised what he had done. The expression of his facies switched from anger to frustration. He slowly raised his hand and articulated:

- I assure you... I'm fine. I'm used to, Diassyon. If you stay too close of me, if you touch me... you risk catching all the diseases that I'm carrying. Your body will become as rotten as mine, and only Pestilens will look at you without openly despise you. This is not what you want... is it?

The young Warlock Engineer shook his head. Moly sat on a large stone.

- How did it happen?

- The weird-things trapped him.

- And Klur?

- He narrowly escaped. One of my Skirmishers and two Night Runners died.

- What about my acolytes? I found a dead one, but the other two?

- They have not reappeared, said the voice of Klur.

The Gutter Runner was leaning against a metal column, arms and legs crossed.

- This mission is a failure! noted the anthracite Skaven with a scathing voice.

- I don't care! We just lost a brother! cried the Skryre.

Klur rolled his eyes, having a fearful expression.

- Skaven live only if they are worthy of the Horned Rat. Especially those that bear his personal brand. There is nothing to add.

Diassyon clenched his fists in rage. He saw in the corner of his eye a Clanrat waiting for his reaction staring at him. With a wild yell, the brown Skaven punch him in his eye, then ran away in a tunnel.

Klur contemplated the Pestilens with pity. The latter was tired of all this. He retired to his clan district to collect medicinal herbs. Long minutes later, he crossed the door of the area infested with plague victims.

Skaven of Clan Pestilens were the most numerous in the Brissuc colony, and therefore, their leader was the most powerful of the burrow. He repeated to anyone who could hear he would have been an excellent leader for the colony, if he had not "chosen to comply with the will of the worthy Son of Thanquol". Moly knew him enough to be sure of the contrary, but he couldn't do anything else than to kowtow to stay alive.

Clan Pestilens neighbourhoods were like their philosophy: unhealthy to extremes, glaucous, loaded with all kinds of filth. Droppings, rotten meat, dried blood, vomit studded the narrow corridors, and left a plethora of nauseating odours. The stench was so unbearable that it took away all the Skaven who were not part of the Clan. It recalled how their lives were hanging by a thread: every living creature that entered this sector contracted several diseases quickly, and if it didn't succumb immediately, it was devoured by Pestilens or forced to join their ranks.

This area, the largest of the colony, was inaccessible even to Grey Seer Vellux. In this place, the Plague Monks had established their own rules. It was also the largest area, it spread through three huge floors of caves, tunnels interlaced with bridges and ladders assemblies made with copper pipes and brass, stolen over the decades major to neighbouring towns sewers. The deepest caves kept some traces of a hose dug by the dwarf-things who formerly operated a coal mine nearby.

Moly dragged to a moving cage attached to a heavy chain by an iron ring on the roof. This curious but practical invention of Clan Skryre was pompously called "upandownalone". He grabbed the cord of a small gong, rang and the copper disk twice. In a large concert of squeaks and creaks, the cab moved slowly, jamming from time to time, and pitched dangerously. Finally, as the "upandownalone" stopped, the young Pestilens came out. He wandered through long corridors lit by globes emitting purple light – another invention of Skryre. He met a fellow Plague Monk. This one was vomiting on his own feet.

Finally, the cream Skaven sighed in relief when arriving to a long corridor whose walls were studded with holes drilled directly into the stone. He crawled without hesitation to an opening in particular, the one marked with his body fluids. He laid on the pile of rags that were therein, and curled in his "nest".

Now safe, he thought about what had happened.

_Psody__ died... I've been humiliated... my Clan brothers under my responsibility died... I cried on Diassyon... I feel bad... Psody is dead... Diassyon is sad... Chitik is very sad... and I... I'm sad, too. Why, o Horned Rat? Why bully so much poor Moly?_

He then felt tingling irritate his yellow eyes. He moaned softly understanding that he was crying. Thereupon he fell asleep, and his sleep was haunted by the worst moments of that terrible day.

When Diassyon reached the public square before the temple of the Horned Rat, he saw that Klur was already there. This surprised him.

- Well, you have been summoned, you too-too?

- Indeed, brother, whispered the anthracite Skaven.

- Why?

- Don't know.

The brown Skaven felt his face cheering up as he saw the bulk silhouette of Chitik. The big Black Skaven had still a dirty tissue bandage across the chest, but he recovered quickly and was strong enough to walk without difficulty. He exchanged glances with Klur, a rather disturbing looking. For a split second, the Gutter Sewer thought the Stormvermin had understood, then he remembered:

_No, otherwise he'd have already jumped on me. I wonder what he's thinking about?_

Chitik disliked the anthracite Skaven, it was a fact. But until now, he had always captured his attention on Psody, always ready to obey him, and had never openly threatened him. Now the little White Skaven had disappeared, many things would probably change. Klur vowed to remain vigilant. Diassyon addressed the Black Skaven what he hoped to be his best smile.

- Happy-glad to see you, Chitik.

Big Chitik said nothing, but he patted his shoulder. A characteristic rale sounded under the rocky arch, creating strange echoes bouncing on irregular walls. The sound of a cane was beating regularly, with slight dings. And a horrible smell suddenly invaded the air. The three Skaven turned their head at the same time, and saw two other sons of the Horned Rat zigzagging in their direction. To be fair, one of them zigzagged, and the other, smaller, applied to follow his movement, even he had to stumble. It was a mark of unwavering obedience. What could be more natural than to show respect to the power broker of Brissuc?

Moly was alongside Soum, Plague Deacon of the burrow. The Pestilens was the oldest Skaven of the community, and had lived more than fifteen seasonal cycles, an honourable age for Skaven, especially those of Clan Pestilens. His whole body was nothing but an ambulant source of infection. He wore a robe made with heavy and dark brown tissue with small bells sewn over here and there on, and a matching hood with two holes for the eyes and two other for ears fully covered his head. Every square inch of his carcass exposed to the open air was gangrenous. His fur was absent, his skin fell by quarters long ago, leaving only the black raw flesh. His back arched and his spine stood between his shoulder blades over his neck, forming an impressive hunch. Under his dress, his thinness was almost supernatural, only his stomach let a prominent bulge. Klur assessed his stomach should not be larger than an apple.

He pointed to the three young Skaven a hand which was missing a finger and all nails. His sole right eye shone with a yellowish light as dark as the spots spattered on the crotch of his dress. Diassyon shuddered on hearing a gurgling sound coming from the deep of the throat of Deacon whispering his name.

- Diassyon of Clan Skryre... I feel your sadness. It appears on your face, like a huge abscess. You're scared, too. Fear nothing, my boy. You have nothing to fear from me. And I shall soothe this sadness.

The creature turned slowly to Chitik.

- But his sadness is nothing compared to yours, Chitik the Stormvermin. You have a terrible grief. I know. And this is normal. On the same day, you have failed in your most important duty-duty, and you have lost the one to whom you were most attached. Oh, my young friend... I gladly would hug you, if I could.

Finally, the old Pestilens looked at Klur.

- As for you, your sense of duty to the colony, and the Horned Rat, have preserved you from these horrors. You are strong, bold, and agile. You honour your clan, and all our people.

Klur nodded, more by survival instinct than by conviction, because he was as surprised as the others. Deacon Soum spoke with a soft, reassuring voice, a tone which none of the three brothers had been accustomed. The contrast with Vellux was startling. The Grey Seer was pretty good-looking for a Skaven, but had a bad temper and got angry quickly and largely for often benign reasons. However, if Deacon Soum was a grave insult to the eye and the nose, a kind of disturbing, indefinable and enjoyable heat emanated from him... He tilted his head to the side, and asked:

- So... are you ready to serve me? You'll mainly obey me. Your leaders will always give you instructions, of course, but mine will go forward.

- Even if it goes against the opinions of our leader? asked the Gutter Runner.

- Yes, because I see things they can't. They can't hear the Horned Rat. I can. As our Grey Seer. And if your leaders don't agree with me... they'll suffer the wrath of the Horned Rat.

Klur replied with a cruel smile. The prospect of a murder or two for example rejoiced him. The other two looked at each other, surprised. Diassyon never thought to revolt against the Master Warlock Engineer Mabrukk. Chitik couldn't even imagine what that meant. The old Skaven continued:

- Keep on serving your Clan and our colony. That's all I want you now. Then later, when you are more confident... we'll see. Okay?

Without a word, the three brothers nodded, a little surprised. Diassyon came forward and stammered:

- I don't understand.

- What? Deacon asked gently.

- Err... Moly is always growling, complaining... I thought all Pestilens were like that. But you... oh splendid grandeur with the sacred word of the Horned Rat... you're... _nice_.

"Nice"... A word that had only rarely place in the bestial society of the Sons of the Horned Rat, which generally sounded like a mockery or insult. It was not possible to see the expression of Deacon, but the four brothers realised he had properly heard coughing regularly turned out to be a laugh. The bells rang in unison.

- My children, I think you deserve a different treatment compared to other Skaven, because you are different. You have the same blood as a Grey Seer. You are smarter and more capable than your respective Clan brothers. We know there are two ways to ensure obedience and efficiency of a Skaven: threat and kindness. For you, I wonder if we shouldn't try the second solution. I managed to convince Grey Seer Vellux it was worth-worth to try. So I'll try the experiment of kindness. And since we're talking about kindness... there's something I would like to ask you. Not an order-order, rather a favour.

Another term that many of sons of the Horned Rat didn't know the existence.

- Wh… what favour, Deacon? Klur asked, more confused.

The Plague Deacon winked towards Moly, who was still standing near him.

- Moly, I chose you because you seemed me most worthy to transmit our message. I remember as you were a little ratling, clung to life as to the breast of the breeder that spawned it.

He put a kind hand on the shoulder of his young disciple, and turned to the others.

- Do you know how your distribution took place, my children?

"Distribution" designed the moment when the main Clan leaders of a Skaven city shared the viable newborns of a breed that showed no particular sign. In most Skaven cities, they were placed in the clan of their father, but some terriers have adopted this relatively new method, because it balanced the number of individuals per Clans. Not need to worry about who knocked up the breeder. The most important was that Pestilens could swell their ranks without fear of transmitting diseases to breeders.

- We spotted the Black Skaven and the White Skaven immediately, of course. Chitik was placed in Furghân's nursery and Grey Seer Vellux took Psody under his wing. Then the representatives of the four major Clans shared the other four. One for each, no one to be spoiled. However, Clan Pestilens being the most represented in Brissuc, I had the privilege to choose first. I've watched so you three and your brother of Clan Moulder. It was then I've spotted you, the one I would call Moly. You were not the biggest, but you were the beefiest apart the Black Skaven. The one who would be the most able to withstand all brands of our Clan, and transmit them. I have never regretted my decision.

He paternally patted the shoulder of the cream Skaven.

- Do not be too severe with your younger brother. We, Skaven of Clan Pestilens, have our way of thinking. We are a Clan apart in Skaven society. The Horned Rat has decided to give us his most intimate physical essence. This leaves marks on our bodies. And any ordinary social life is forbidden to us. The Pestilens remain between themselves, and the other Skaven despise them without trying to understand them.

Moly lowered his head, visibly ashamed. Deacon held him against him. He continued in a voice more drawling:

- For you, it is a disgusting curse, a mockery. But we see it as a burden, a sacrifice for the good of our people. One day, the lower races will be destroyed, and if there are survivors, they will crawl in front of us and beg to be our slaves to live a little longer. The world will be as the Horned Rat desires. And it is we, the Skaven Clan Pestilens, who will be the architects of this world. However, in the meantime, we must kowtow and accept this sacrifice. Moly was chosen by the Horned Rat for this task. And I assure you he is worthy-worthy.

- However, I feel he's becoming crazy, noted Klur. Yesterday, he did nothing!

- I know, my boy. But this is only an impression. The more time passes, the more his body adapts. Yesterday, he managed to reach Brissuc alone. He has travelled many miles in a hazardous environment, injured and disoriented. He has thick-thick skin, and I love it. And very soon, his mind will be sufficiently enlightened by the grace of the Horned Rat so I can teach him how to use Pestilens Magic.

At these words, the four brothers groaned in astonishment, Moly mainly. There were three schools of magic for the Sons of the Horned Rat, and that of Pestilens was specialised in debilitating curses, rotting of dead or alive matters, and the spread of disease. Like all forms of magic, its learning required intelligence and application far above the average. But the young Plague Monk appeared to be below qualifications, especially for his own eyes.

- Me...? But… Deacon... I...

- Yes, Moly. It's been a long-long time I didn't form a Plague Priest. My knowledge must not disappear with me, I'll have to have a successor. Your brother Psody was touched by the spiritual grace of the Horned Rat, and our Grey Seer told me he had exceptional abilities for a White Skaven. So why not you, his blood brother? Maybe you are called to become the new Skrolk?

Skrolk, the Lord of Death, was a legend for the Skaven of Clan Pestilens, the epitome of decadence and corruption, who had managed to get powerful artefacts belonging to the weird-things god of disease. The idea that he could be compared to this extraordinary figure made the young Monk rush blood to his cheeks. Soum loosened his grip, and turned again to the other three.

- I can not ask you to treat it as one of yours. But I beg you to be kind with him. And you will see the day when he will be a Plague Deacon, it will always be good to be on his side. Think about it.

The old Skaven passed his hand under his mask to cough several times. He wiped the slimy mucus on his dress, and announced in a louder voice:

- Now, something-something different. Your younger brother was in charge of the fight against the weird-thing mage Aescos Karkadourian. Grey Seer Vellux asked me to replace him, and continue this fight. We'll have to make our strategy evolve. To begin, you'll have to be very careful-watchers. Weird-things always leave traces when they pollute me,-things.

- Oh yes, I remember! Diassyon realised. When we came out for the first time in the village over the burrow, the local men-things had a really strange-strange behaviour! I saw one that was mating a... horse!

- And I saw two who were punching and kicking each other, but it made them laugh, muttered Moly. Not normal-normal.

The single eye of the Deacon flashed Deacon.

- Exactly! That's what I'm talking about. Karkadourian serves Slaanesh. This is the god of not normal pleasures. And its magic can drive you crazy!

Diassyon thought about what he had seen the day before. He saw again the young Skirmishers copulating, and his facies scowled.

- Magic dangerous-insane.

- Right, Diassyon. We must be careful. From now on, whenever you see a Skaven of Brissuc or a man-thing mating in a disturbing way, or who is happy to be hurt, then you warn me immediately. Klur, you set out to patrol the area. You're the one who can best spy men-things. So you're my eyes and ears outside the colony.

The anthracite Skaven nodded. The Deacon swung to and Chitik Diassyon.

- You two continue to serve your leaders, but as soon as I know where to find Karkadourian or his agents, I call you, you come and help me to find.

The Black Skaven knelt, imitated by Skryre. Soum still patted his shoulder disciple.

- As for you, Plague Monk, I'll teach how to make potions-potions even more dangerous. This is the first step towards your learning.

The Deacon recoiled, bent forward, and spat a stream of dark, frothy saliva.

- I now leave you, and retire to pray the Horned Rat. With his strength, we can only win. Moly, find me in an hour in my study. In the meantime, do anything you want.

- Thank you, my great and abiding master.

Soum began a movement to one of the tunnels, and walked shuffling. He paused, and said, still without turning.

- One last thing: do not talk about my instructions to anyone. Vellux knows, but not your Clan leaders, and I don't want that to change. And do not tell anyone what I intend to do with Moly. One day, the colony will know, but I wish to be done from my mouth only. Don't forget it.

He went his way and disappeared, leaving only the four young Skaven. The Stormvermin straightened, his face expressed nothing but bitterness.

- I don't understand. Why do I have such a stomach ache?

- Because you're sad, Diassyon hissed. I know what you're feeling.

Chitik turned to the Skryre, with a look that mingled sorrow and profound question. The brown Skaven continued to the attention of his three brothers.

- Listen-listen! We are now only four in a so exceptional breed, that had a Black Skaven and a White Skaven! You know what that means? We also are favoured by the Horned Rat! We must not disappoint him! We must remain united-united!

- No blood relationship among Skaven! the Plague Monk grunted loudly. We all are the Sons of the Horned Rat, and nothing else!

- Moly, you're beginning to annoy-annoy me! Diassyon yelped. You didn't like Psody, but it's not a reason to be so scornful!

The brown Skaven trembled with rage, and his eyes flashed with anger. He thought about how the Pestilens berated him yesterday, and his anger was fuelled. Chitik took fright and interposed between his two cadets.

- Diassyon! Moly! No fighting! Deacon asked us to be "nice"!

Nobody moved, a moist silence hovered during about ten seconds. The Plague Monk bowed his head.

- I didn't hate him, Diassyon. I admired him. I really wanted to know him a little more. But Plague Monks are condemned-condemned to be understood only by Plague Monks. You heard the Deacon, didn't you? I never dared to change my way of thinking, and Psody always despised me, like all the others.

- You pissed on his ideas and personality!

- No.

This time, the Pestilens supported the Skryre's stare.

- Psody had strange ideas. The Horned Rat whispered him things that our elders didn't approve. I didn't approve these ideas either, but I didn't find them despicable. In fact, they fascinated me, but they scared me at the same time. They were very different, and if you followed them, they could change lots of things. I think that's what killed him. He didn't want to do like all Skaven do, and so he died. Diassyon, if we behave like him, we'll end in the same-same way.

- I agree with you! then declared Klur, who had not said a word since the Deacon was gone.

The Gutter Runner was lying on the concave wall of a large copper pipe. He murmured:

- We have always lived as we live. Our society is composed so, and we must not disrupt the balance. Psody thought like you, Diassyon. He was attracted by daylight, and new ideas. He wanted to take his damned breeders on his service. He challenged our laws by insisting letting you alive, Chitik. Something tells me that if the weird-things marauders hadn't killed him, someone else would. Another Son of the Horned Rat.

- You... you think? stammered the Pestilens.

- I'm sure. Now, forget him, our mission continues, for the glory of our God, and Brissuc!

And the Eshin disappeared silently into the tunnel. Diassyon and Chitik watched their brother decrepit. The latter checked Klur was no longer there, and to the surprise of his two eldest, he sat down, and burst into tears.

- Poor, poor us! Poor Psody!

Suddenly overwhelmed with compassion, the big Black Skaven approached the cream Skaven, but the brown Skaven grabbed him by his arm.

- No!

- But... look at him, he's so sad! We can't let him like that!

- Don't touch him, Chitik! You might get infected!

- Oh...

Chitik and Diassyon were suddenly terribly embarrassed. Until now, they had never experienced such an emotion. They proved ruthless to their enemies, and completely indifferent to other Skaven, but the despair of their younger brother upset them. Was it a manifestation of "blood ties" which Vellux and Soum had spoken? Instinctively, the Skryre also wanted to get closer to the Plague Monk, touch him friendly, hug him to warm him up... but he knew very well the danger it represented. Chitik, the eldest of the breed, felt completely helpless. This war an evil which he couldn't fight against, that thought made him tremble.

Finally, Moly calmed down a little, and looked up.

- I'm... sorry.

- I can not comfort you, Moly, and it makes me very sad. Really-really.

- I know, Diassyon, I know.

Moly stood up, sniffed, and stammered:

- I gotta go. I'll see you later.

He walked slowly and towed to the district Pestilens. Both Skaven looked each other.

- I don't like to see him like that, Chitik articulated.

- Me neither. And I don't think he's bad-bad, indeed.

- Soum is right, we should be "nice" with him. But Klur will never agree.

- Let him die.

Chitik wanted to respond, but he restrained himself, scratched his head, and finally nodded. The brown Skaven added:

- Yeah... I prefer to upset Klur than let Moly cry.

- Me too. And if Klur wants trouble, he will find trouble!

The Stormvermin was about to go back to the Black Skaven barracks, when the brown Skaven held him by his arm.

- Wait!

The Skryre looked right, then left, and whispered:

- Listen, brother, I'm not Psody, I know. I won't never replace him. I don't have white hairs, or horns, and the Horned Rat doesn't talk to me directly. But I'm here. I have the same blood as you. I don't care what Klur said, I feel better when I'm with you. If you want, let me be your new protected one.

And to support his contention, Diassyon knelt, slipped his jacket under his apron, and presented his neck to the Black Skaven. This gesture, rarely done voluntarily by Skaven, was a way for those who did to put his life in the hands of the person to whom it was addressed. The other had to mark with his urine the subject's neck. So made the Black Skaven.

Once this little ritual accomplished, Chitik pressed against him Diassyon. He wept again over his shoulder, the Skryre comforted, and finally the two Skaven parted.

- So, he spread his juice on him?

- Yes, Grey Seer.

- You've seen them?

- They were too busy whining. I didn't miss anything.

- Good.

Grey Seer Vellux had a wicked smile.

- Continue to survey them. They are like you and Psody, they have a strong head. They should not make the same mistakes-mistakes.

- I'll watch, Grey Seer.

Vellux gave Klur a small leather purse. When the Eshin opened it, he chuckled seeing small chips warpstone inside.

- You know what awaits you if you try to cheat me, Klur of Clan Eshin

- Of course, o bearer of the great words of the Horned Rat. But I'm not like my brothers. I know who commands.

- So, don't change anything. Serve me wisely, and you'll get your reward.

The anthracite Skavene growled impatiently. He flattened on the dusty pavement laboratory, and retired hastily. Once alone, Vellux chuckled softly.

_Fool! You will never be able to use the magic of Clan Eshin!_

A column of soft light dropped from the crevice dug in the ceiling. It was the hole which through Diassyon of Clan Skryre loved to contemplate the sky, when he wanted to relax a bit. Long, he wondered where this big hole lead, and why men-things never had the courage to descend and there to surprise them. And then, one day, he managed to reach the top with its "superclimb" a jezzail without powder, but with a powerful spring, which was attached on a long cable terminated with a grapple. He had sent the hook that clung between two tree branches at the edge of the hole, and went up by rewinding the cable.

All Skaven who attended the event had initially laughed, but the teasing had given way to excited admiration. Once at the surface, the brown Skaven had not heard the cheers and squeals of joy from his peers, as he was captivated by the show. The hole led simply to a clearing that was on a big hill a few miles from Niklasweiler. A place deep in the forest, where men-things never dared to go. The space between the trees was wide enough to allow the sun and moons to pour their light.

The decor itself was not very pleasant, but this day and prowess were engraved in the memory of Skryre. He had never doubted able to reach one of the moons, one day or another. This cave was now his personal sanctuary.

Diassyon sat on the floor, eyes wide open and raised towards the promise the starry dome made to him by letting hum see hundreds of tiny lights twinkling in the dark blue sky.

Psody explained to him that these things appeared only at night, and they were called "stars". These "stars" were gathered in groups, and it was from them that the Horned Rat transmitted his power to his closest servants. They contained a lot of magic, and allowed to communicate with the spirits of other White Skaven.

Diassyon knew he would never able to perceive the smallest power of either of these small bright sparks. However, he wanted to make one last prayer. While gazing intently at the sky, he saw the face of the lost young White Skaven White, and thought:

_Psody, wherever you are now... may the Horned Rat watch over you, my brother._


	6. Rebirth

_A tower, in a mountainous region. A fortress. And Skaven, tens, hundreds of Skaven. Skaven attacking men-things on the stone ramparts._

_Black._

_Cries, yelps, shocks of steel against steel, coughs of agony._

_Black._

_The sky filled with oddly coloured, mixing and detangling clouds. A very strange device resembling a ship whose sails have been replaced by a gigantic cylindrical bladder, inflated with air. And just in the foreground, the fine hand with hooked fingers of a Skaven, with a white fur covering its back._

- _You're mine-mine! shouts a voice. From the outstretched hand, a giant green energy paw slowly emerges, grips the flying ship, and slowly pulls it to the ground._

_A golden lightning fuses to the hand, and the world becomes topsy-turvy. The white hands rest on the ground, painfully. Then a cry of frustrated rage._

_Two faces. A blond-fur man-thing with a red cloak, and a dwarf-thing with two huge arms covered with tattoos, an orange beard, a long ridge of the same colour, and a large axe with runes engraved on its blade. Two faces were not unknown, and that triggered a terrible anger._

- _I will find you! Die-die!_

_Black_

_The White Skaven with a colourful dress is chained to a stone wall, arms crossed. He seems to have lost his last strength. With a spurt, he lifts his head towards the sky._

- _It was meant to succeed, and you know it! But you, who claim to have a superior intelligence, you have just destroyed everything with your obscurantism! Damn you, Kroak! Damn all of you!_

_He leaves hang from his chains, and bitter tears come to his eyes. He remains for a few moments motionless and silent, and then slowly raises his head. His gaze is surprised._

- _Hey, you! Who are you?_

_A glimmer of hope lights in the wards of the White Skaven._

- _You can help me! You _must_ help me! But first, you must recover! _Now!

Psody coughed, and coughed again, and loudly breathed. His face was nothing but a mask of burning lead, to the end of his snout. His throat was warmer and drier than the crater of a volcano. Blood pounded in his ears, but that did not prevent him vaguely hear a strange voice humming a slow and amused tune. He dared not open his eyes. It was then he heard a voice tell him with an authoritative tone:

- Don't pretend to sleep. I feel your mind is more awake.

The Grey Seer resigned himself to lift his eyelids. He saw a moving form on his left. He looked up and saw a man-thing. A huge female wearing a red dress which tightened her generous silhouette, sitting on a stool. She had an impressive grey mane which heaved in all directions, revealing a broad forehead surmounting two small sparkling eyes deep in their sockets. Her skin was crumpled like an old prune.

- You… you speak my language, the young ratman difficultly articulated.

- Indeed, young man.

- Who taught you?

- No one, but magic can sometimes do amazing things, such as understanding the language of someone with known origins. Yours don't leave room for doubt.

Psody realised he was in a bed. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth, and his tongue was pasty. He straightened up, letting slip the blanket on his hips, and realised he had not any clothes on him. The old female smiled a little mocking, which disturbed him.

- What have you done to me?

- I made you drink a decoction, a few hours ago.

- What?!

- Oh, don't worry, nothing bad! You might even thank me, because without it, you'd be dead, for sure. The disease back away with my care. It will be long and difficult, but with goodwill, you should be able to make it, this time. Poor, poor little young rat, lost in this quagmire, helpless.

- I wasn't… helpless.

- You think so? said the fat woman, laughing. An infected wound in your back, fever devouring your brain, and would have turned you into a omelette, unless a swamp creature would have seized the opportunity to eat you... not lacking options! But fate has decided otherwise, it seems. You went in my field. It is very large, and luckily I wasn't far off, otherwise you would have joined your god!

The White Skaven felt something sticky on his back. He felt nervously, twisting his neck to see what it was, and saw a kind of plaster. He stood stunned. This senile old she-thing had... _cured_ for? She should, logically, have let him die in the swamp.

_This is what__ I would have done. So... why?_

- Why? he asked aloud.

- Well, I haven't been visited by a person for a long time. So if someone comes, even if the one is not like me... why not you?

- You're not like the other men-things. You're not afraid-afraid of me.

- And why should I be "afraid-afraid" of you? This marsh is my field, I was protected by it from unwanted repeatedly. And I know enough about the arts of magic to defend myself against any intruder who would approach my house.

- There were... marauders.

- Pooh! These fools are too afraid of me to venture into the quagmire! As for you, you do not represent any danger. You are naked and weak as a newborn baby. You inspire me no fear, rather pity.

Psody had a headache so it was hard to think, but that last sentence did not escape his intellect. Him, pitiful? That was insulting. The female stood up and approached the bed pulling the stool and sat down next to the Skaven. She gently placed her wrinkled hand on his burning forehead. He dropped back.

- What are you doing?

- I'm doing something that no one ever did to you, Skaven. I'm checking the temperature of your body.

- I... I'm hot.

- Yes, you are very hot, but probably less than this morning. I want to see how the disease is evolving, so if you want to heal, don't be stubborn and let me examine you.

She lowered her hand, placing it on the head of the White Skaven again, who did not resist. He shivered as he felt the coldness of her palm. The witch was slowly sliding his fingers on his horns.

- Pretty things. They are a blessing, aren't they?

- Yes. I am a chosen-chosen one.

- And I guess this "chosen-chosen one" has a name?

Psody didn't reply.

- Oh, come on, I've taken you out from the marsh, I've moved you to my place, I'm paying attention to you since yesterday morning. You could be polite enough to tell me how I can call you, right?

- It is true-true. I am Psody

- And I'm Katel. And according what I know of your kind, these horns indicate that you share my knowledge of arcane magic. I guess that's why you've survived; considering your skinny constitution, you can thank your god, because he watches over you with attention. Or you've demonstrated an uncommon willingness, few others would so have clung to life! Such an injury, in a place so unhealthy this swamp, it's surprising it has not infected further. Mind you, this is not so surprising when you consider your body is filled with warpstone.

- Warpstone... warpstone! I need it! cried Psody taken suddenly panic. Otherwise, I'll die!

- Calm down! ordered the old Katel in pushing his shoulders firmly against the mattress. You'd be dead if your body was too associated with this material. You used to breath regularly dust in your den, but it looks like you've been lucky enough not to become addicted. Soon, you won't need it anymore.

The old woman got up and retrieved a large bowl of earth placed on a small table near the bed. Psody took the opportunity to sit up straight, and examine a little closely where they were. It was a room with a chest facing the bed and a dressing table on the right, under a window that opened to the outside. The old she-thing sat beside the bed, and handed to the little ratman a spoon full of steaming soup.

- Come on, it will help you regain strength.

The young White Skaven, accustomed to a diet consisting mainly of meat, hesitated, but he felt too weak to chew, he resigned to open his mouth. The hot liquid had an incredible taste, which immediately made good. He opened his mouth wide, ready to receive more. The hermit smiled and asked while feeding him:

- Do you know how people like me generally consider people like you?

The ratman replied quickly between two spoonfuls:

- We are a scourge that keeps you awake at night. We are a chosen race, before whom all inferior species will give way. We are the Sons of the Horned Rat, and we do everything in order that the world is shaped the way we want, to reign unchallenged over. We are your future masters.

- Wrong. From the point of view of most of my fellow, you are nothing but vermin. Animals with no feeling, condemned to crawl into the garbage and to eat each other. If you were not so many, you definitely wouldn't represent any danger for us. And besides, if you were so superior, the world would be your feet for long, this is not the case.

- If you hate me so much, why did you saved me?

- Like I said, I am pleased to have some company. I have nothing against you in particular, you did not personally wronged me. And, that does not spoil anything, for a ratman, you're not ugly to look at.

Psody took a few seconds to realise what the old witch meant, and this idea seemed very absurd, but he just shrugged his small shoulders.

- I can not stay here. I have a destiny to fulfil.

- You're not in condition to fulfil anything. I must treat you, or the only fate that awaits you is pushing up the daisies.

- I don't need your help! spat the White Skaven.

- Don't be narrow-minded, the woman retorted hardly. You are seriously ill, you need medication, and you know it!

- The magic of Warp protects me, and makes me strong!

- If you thought for a second, you would have noticed that you are even able to light a candle! Fever seriously interferes with concentration for any sorcerer.

Psody hissed in anger. He raised his hand and muttered a few abstruse syllables in the language of the Skaven magic. The huge woman seemed unabashed. Finally, the ratman pointed to her with a short scream.

Some green sparks crackled slightly, and that was all.

Thunderstruck, the White Skaven looked at his hand, looking for any anomaly that he didn't see. He felt his ears lie under depression. The old witch was right, and would surely not miss the opportunity to tease him. But she did nothing. She spoke with a more conciliatory tone.

- Look, I feel deep inside you, there is not the fever heating your blood only. You don't remember maybe not, but while you were sleeping, you talked. You must have seen things, because I felt the winds of magic going through your head, not to mention your nervous tics. And it troubled your rest, for sure. You have cursed many people in your delusions. Four names came regularly.

- Which names?

- You see that my help won't be so useless, finally, she laughed. Well, you said "Cure" or "Lure" or...

- Klur.

- Yes, it is. Who is this?

Psody hesitated. Would he have to tell all his story to this stranger? Otherwise, even if it bothered him to admit it, she had probably saved his life. Perhaps it was a ruse to squeeze him information off? Maybe was she actually the one responsible for his impotence?

_If this is the case, the only solution I have is to play the game until I can change the rules._

- Klur is my brother. It is he who has hurt me in my back, and tried to drown me.

- Well, that makes you a good reason not to love him, indeed. The second name that came back was "Vellux."

- Vellux is my master. This is the Grey Seer who taught me the word of the Horned Rat, who taught me how to handle its power.

Katel wrinkled her nose.

- That's strange, as you're talking about him now, you seem to fear him. In your restless dreams, you wanted to tear his bowels off. You really want to kill him?

- No! I admired him, I refused to disappoint him! I wanted to be like him! And yet, I'm almost certain that I was deliberately sent me to a place I would never return from. He probably ordered Klur be his arm.

- Paranoia is a way of life, for Skaven. You see conspiracies everywhere, sometimes wrongly, sometimes rightly so. Who knows if what you think is right or not?

A few moments of silence during which Katel served again her little patient a few sips of soup. Once the bowl empty, she put it on a small table. Psody asked:

- There were two other names, you said?

- Right. And I don't know what these two people have done to you, but if a quarter of curses you cast on them would happen, I wouldn't change it for them for anything!

- And what were those names?

- Gotrek Gurnisson and Felix Jaeger.

The White Skaven cogitated, felt a fever flood his forehead.

- I've heard these names. I think one of them is a dwarf-thing and the other a man-thing. Both have the reputation of being the greatest threat to my people.

- Did you ever seen them?

- Never. And yet...

As he was speaking, Psody realised the images came back to him.

- I wonder if I might not recognize them if I saw them. Even putting five or six men-things looking alike side by side, I have in memory little significant details that would allow me to distinguish them with certainty: their voice, their eyes, their way of fighting...

- That's amazing indeed. But who knows what your god could put into your noggin?

- I guess he wants me to kill-kill them!

- What, send someone like you face two known Skaven killers? This is nonsense! And it doesn't explain why this Vellux wanted to get rid of you! Unless... you have done something that offended him! Wouldn't you have upset him, deliberately or not?

- I swear all I wanted was to fulfil my master with pride, and follow the words of the Horned Rat. I don't know why he did it to me!

The old woman had a pensive pout, shaking his head slowly.

- I guess you don't know where to go now?

- Uh...

- I thought so. And you were ready to leave the bed, weak and aimless!

Psody said nothing, but the confusion was visible on his face. His strange interlocutor gently laid her old hand on his shoulder, and held the other halfway.

- I know this your kind is not used to trust, but I'm asking you, let me help you. I don't want to force you. If you really want to leave, so leave, I won't prevent it, even though I still think it's certain death, as you are not healed. Indeed, you fascinate me, I would really solve this puzzle with you.

The Skaven White looked at the outstretched hand, sniffed gently, then decided to take it, cautiously. Katel widely smiled, then grabbed his wrist firmly, and pulled him out from the bed.

- To begin with, we'll tidy you up a little.

Sat in a wooden tub filled with hot water, Psody wasn't happy at all. He hated contact with water in such a quantity. In addition, the smell of soap made him sneeze, and foam stung his eyes. He cried, and swore a thousand insults. The old woman didn't listen to his whining. She scrubbed him with large brush strokes.

- Come on, a little dignity, young man! Fortunately nobody is here to hear you! Well, at least you seem to take the bull by the horns!

- I don't like this! It is unbearable-unbearable!

- Can't you see that? You must wash, you're disgusting! I'm believing you never took any bath in your entire life!

- I'm used to!

- You think I'm doing it for you? Have you seen how dirty you let my sheets? I'll have to let them boil for hours to clean them! You're going to spend some time with me, as long as your lungs recover from your illness, so you'll have to change some habits, including stinking and having fleas in your fur! Now stop squirming! If you plant a horn into my eye, I'll tear it off!

Psody said nothing, merely grumbling. Suddenly Katel passed her hand over his back injury. He squealed in pain with a spurt.

- Oh, sorry... I'll also ensure make it disappear.

- What a shame-shame! A chosen one of the Horned Rat, reduced to this! moaned miserably the White Skaven. I am humiliated!

- But you're alive, little rat. Better living and a little ashamed rather than proud, but completely dead, don't you think? And then, there is nothing humiliating to take care of his body.

The Skaven folded his arms, and lowered his muzzle with a pout upset. His silence didn't offended the woman who continued her grooming operation. After a few minutes, she took a bucket, filled it with water and poured on the head of the Grey Seer who coughed loudly.

- That's it! You're beginning to look like something.

- I hate water! And I hate being wet!

- You live in the sewers, it shouldn't not bother you so, right? You'll see, when you see yourself clean as a whistle, you'll never spend a day without taking a bath, I guarantee.

- What? Immerse myself in this water every day? Never-never! And I hate whistles! This instrument is a bad omen, for Skavens!

- Oh, you're worse than a little spoiled child! Besides, I think... you're no longer a child, right?

Psody turned the muzzle toward Katel.

- I entered my fifth seasonality few moons ago.

- Four seasonal cycles… four years old? For a Human, it would still be very young, but you seem more advanced than a four years old child.

- I passed all the rites of passage to adulthood.

- How long your kind live on average?

- The oldest, the most cunning and strongest live twenty cycles.

- And for humans, there approximately live triple. So if you were Human, I think you would be thirteen or fourteen years old. That explains a lot, Katel said laughing. Come on, get up, get out of there.

The White Skaven obeyed. The witch rolled a large towel around his neck and rubbed vigorously. She could not help to have a softened smile by seeing him sheepish, his head buried in his shoulders, shivering under the wool.

- Relax, I can assure you that you will feel much better, she said gently. Sit on the bench.

Obediently Psody settled on the wood, and the woman wiped him more gently, humming.

- Don't move, I'll redo a bandage.

The White Skaven gritted his teeth and felt a tear of pain coming to his eye as the cold and biting contact of the plaster stung his wound, but he wouldn't annoy the person who was taking cared of him by complaining again. This seemed to realise it.

- There, it's over. For a young Skaven, you are brave!

- You think so?

- Yes. Seriously, this injury could have killed you! You lucky!

- The Horned Rat has done me a favour by putting you in my path.

- It is rather you who were on _my_ way, Psody! You were unconscious when I picked you up.

He lifted his head, sniffed the air, and saw the sun shining above the trees. It was not unpleasant.

- I like the sensation of heat.

- Me too. I love the sun. Doesn't it burning too much your pretty little accustomed to the darkness of the underground pink eyes?

- No, it's okay. My master told me to stay away from the sun, but it's rather pleasant, actually.

- Benefit. I come back, I won't be long.

The White Skaven heard the footsteps of the old witch away. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. In the distance, he heard birds singing. The wind rustled the leaves around, stroking his face nicely. And his nostrils detected a slew of odours he had never felt. Raising his eyes, he saw that the tree above him was carrying flowers on its branches. The scent tickled deliciously mucous membranes of his nose. He realised he had not felt so good for a very long time. Either the hermit had put something in the soup, or he was in the presence of such a large amount of new elements that his head was spinning, but in a pleasantly way. He could not restrain a smile of bliss.

Katel returned. He noticed that she was holding a long lime.

- I found it in my husband's workshop, it should do it.

Psody got up in a jump.

- Hey, what you gonna do to me?

- I'll take care of your horns.

- No way! yelled the ratman back warding. Nobody touches my horns!

- I won't saw them off! the woman retorted impatiently. I just want to make you beautiful. They are pretty, but irregular. And they are embedded dirt in places. I'm sure I can arrange them in a way that pleases you.

The Grey Seer thought for a few moments, then shrugged. After all, why not? At worst, they could grow up, he had seen once Vellux with a broken horn, which regenerated in a few weeks. He sat quietly, and saw approaching him Katel before moving behind him.

The operation lasted nearly two hours. Not once did Psody complained. In fact, he did not feel much, but a slight tickle from time to time, and the breath of the old woman when it blew to remove debris planed. Finally, she evacuated once more brownish dust, removed the towel Psody shoulders, and used it to polish the two growths.

- Follow me inside, she ordered, laying the towel on a wire stretched along the way.

Once back in the hut, Katel led his host in a smaller room with two bunk beds and a wardrobe. She stared at the young ratman who stood motionless, arms crossed over his lean chest.

- Well, you won't stay naked, will you? For Humans, wear clothes make the difference between a well-bred person and an animal.

- Being naked is a sign of weakness for Skaven. Our clothes are our status and often this is all we have. Where is my dress?

- This pile of rags informs you were wearing? I threw it in the fire, it no longer resembled anything. Don't worry, I have something for you.

The old hermit opened the cupboard and rummaged inside.

- Here. I bet you've never worn nothing but rags.

She pulled a dark wool, well maintained doublet.

- It belonged to my son. You have about his build, it should fit you. One moment...

Katel untied the strings and buttons, and expanded the maximum cervical opening, passed gently the doublet along the two horns of the White Skaven.

- Raise both arms, put them in the sleeves... Here. Attention... Yes!

Then she tightened the cords, tied buttonholes. She stepped back and looked at the young ratman from top to bottom, before smiling widely.

- Well, there! Sometimes I amaze myself!

- Is there a... a change?

- Are you kidding? See for yourself!

Katel completely opened the cabinet door, revealing a large mirror. Psody saw himself from head to toe. He could not believe his eyes.

Of course, he had seen his own reflection in the stagnant waters of his native city, or small plates of polished glass he used for his complex rituals. And yet, he almost didn't recognize himself. Standing upright on his legs, he noticed first that his fur was not just white. He saw his coat without the slightest stain for the first time in his life, and noticed that under the sunlight coming through the window, his hair glittered intense, almost silver. His eyes sparkled like two pink ruby. Rid of all the dirt that had crowded it so long, his nose was clear and the air circulating without any trouble through his nostrils. His horns, especially, shone with a lustre that left him speechless. They were perfectly symmetrical, just as long, but sharp, without any frills, with its crenulated natural contours clearly visible. The doublet also gave him another look, which didn't displease him. He smiled shyly at his own reflection. The old woman approached him and looked at the mirror in turn.

- So, what do you think?

- This is... this is... unexpected.

- Do you like it?

- Uh... yes? Yes, I think.

- For me, this is much better. You are much more pleasing to the eye.

Katel was right next to the ratman. She ran her gnarled fingers gently between his horns, gently stroking his head. He realised this, and walked a few shy steps away.

- Oh, am I intimidating you?

- It's just ... you're the first man-thing I'm talk with without feeling a desire to flee or kill. You, a female...

The figure of the old female wrinkled more.

- Follow me to the living room, we have to talk.

Psody could see more closely the main room of the cottage of his host. It was a large room with a large wooden table with four chairs and an impressive wicker seat. A large fireplace was facing the entrance door, with a door on each side. One led to the kitchen, the other in the bedroom where he woke up. The room they had left was to the right of the fireplace. And the young ratman was surprised to see over the fire a cut and stuffed troll head, fixed by a nail.

The old hermit sat in the big wicker armchair, imitated by his protégé who laid his hindquarters on a chair.

- Dear little rat, to begin with, you won't call me "female" ever! It will be "Katel" or "Lady". Taal forgive me, you'll have to learn how to treat a lady! Haven't you ever be told? Or you may prefer the intimate company of males, perhaps?

- Don't be ridiculous! I mated a breeder! I gave him my legacy-legacy, it has resulted in a range of ten Skaven! Ten, not less! I would never have done that with a male!

- What a poetry, what a sophistication, congratulations!

The White Skaven thought about this initiation, the lack of insurance he had, and the discomfort he had experienced then, it disturbed him more. But he tried to justify himself:

- I have done the will of the Horned Rat.

- Your god has been undoubtedly inspired by rats as model to shape your people. So I guess you have similarities with these animals, for the behaviour. Ten children, you said? And then, you take care of them? You feed them? Reassure me, you know their names, at least?

- Useless. They are in the hands of leaders of different nurseries. If they are worthy-worthy to serve the Horned Rat, they will survive.

Katel sighed, but it was not exasperation.

- How desolating. But I understand, it's a lifestyle. The survival of the species by number. And no shadow of any sentiment. For Humans, this is not how it works. Ideally, "mate" is not a duty to the race. It is a special moment, a magical moment, the most intense communion shared by two individuals. Two souls are in harmony during this time. And when it results a child, it is not just the result of an obligation left behind, but the most beautiful treasure your god has to offer you. Your "breeders" can produce ten offspring, but our mothers generally have children one by one.

Psody crossed his legs, and thought.

- Yes, Grey Seer Vellux told me that men-things procreate more slowly than us. Their take care of their children and their breeders, they are very valuable.

- I'm really sorry to hear you say so, Katel replied, who looked sad. It's normal, you are not Human, and you have spent four years being fed with very different ideas from mine. You don't know what it is. Respect someone without being forced to do so under the threat of beatings. Live your life peacefully without having all time the fear biting your guts. For Humans, life can't be reduced to an endless struggle against those who should be your main reason for living. This is your worse lack, I think. Be loved, and love. True love, in fact.

- "True love"? the White Skaven repeated, surprised.

- Yes. You know the deepest meaning of this word?

- Uh... I'm not sure.

- This is the magic that binds you to a particular person. Your brothers, your friends, those whose presence comforts you. A magic that you should experience at its best when you "mate", as you so elegantly say.

- How? I don't understand.

The old Katel had a rather disturbing smile.

- I won't teach this lesson. You'll need to find someone else.

- Ah... So, how much pups... children?

The wrinkled face of the old woman scowled.

- Two, and I had a husband. A man, a real one. But they were torn me all three.

Psody felt a dull anger slowly rising in the old woman. He bit his tail nervously. Katel slapped the flat of her hand on the arm of his chair. The White Skaven jumped, and released his grip.

- Don't do it, please. Don't ever do it in front of me again. It is deeply irritating. A bad habit that you'll have to lost.

- Oh... I...

- Oh, forget it. I had a family, a long time ago. I chose to have children in order to love them, raise them, to see them become responsible adults. And my husband worked very hard to feed us. We were not rich, we were already living here, isolated, but we were happy. However, on a dark day, many years ago, all of it stopped. They were all three killed by a monstrous vermin. I heard their cries, and when I arrived it was already too late. So I unleashed all my power to punish the vile creature who dared to take them from me!

Her voice had become hoarse, and his piercing gaze put the Skaven increasingly uncomfortable. He put his hand to his tail to chew it again, but restrained himself, and let it wrap around a chair leg. He swallowed his saliva slowly, and asked:

- I... I guess... they were killed... by Skaven?

Now Katel had a murdering expression. Instinctively, Psody felt she would burst, perhaps cast a destruction spell on him. Suddenly she laughed, and pointed to the stuffed troll head.

- Here, the culprit! He didn't have much time to regret, indeed!

And she laughed harder. The young ratman could not help to do the same, relieved. Suddenly he felt a new onset of fever, and his head spun. Katel realised this.

- Come and lie down for a moment.

She accompanied him to her bedroom, quickly withdrew the stained with dirt bed sheets to replace them, and invited a small gesture White Skaven to lie. She sat on the stool, and resumed the conversation.

- So, you've been chased by your fellow Skaven. One of them stabbed you in your back.

- Klur of Clan Eshin... A coward, a traitor, like all Eshin!

- Why this surprise? You seemed to expect this gesture.

Psody then felt something click somewhere in his mind. He then remembered something, a sentence that the anthracite Skaven had pronounced before sink him drink.

- He didn't do it just for him. He told me... that I had "too much different ideas".

- Hmm... interesting, the hermit replied, rubbing his chin.

Suddenly, the little ratman stood up on the mattress.

- "We don't like this!"

- Excuse me?

- Yes! Klur said "_we_ don't like it!"

- So he wasn't the only one to see you as a threat.

- He obeyed an order from Vellux! I'm sure! No Skaven would dare touch me without fear the wrath of the Horned Rat, unless another White Skaven more authoritarian than me ordered him! However, we were only two White Skaven in Brissuc. This is necessarily Vellux who told him to kill me!

Katel calmly shook his head.

- Good. This is a story that seems rather realistic. Now I'd like to know what these " too different ideas " were?

Psody thought again, but lowered the muzzle.

- No, I don't understand.

- Focus! It does perhaps not built in a day! Can't you remember things that have changed, and that would have surprised you?

- Uh... oh, there were visions-visions.

- Had it been a long time that you started having these visions?

- Not much. Of course, it happened to me to dream when I slept, but it's just a few moons I see pictures-standing images, or dreams seem really real. I feel the smells, I see people I can talk to them, and when they hurt me, I hurt really badly.

- Do you remember the first time it has happened to you?

- Uh... Yes! It was when... when...

The small White Skaven had an embarrassed grimace.

- When I mated the breeder, after my first outing.

- Yeah ... It will be important to use other less crude expressions, my little young rat. Finally, whatever, I think this is a good explanation. Capacity of reproduction is the best evidence of your passage to adulthood, Psody. But for you, I wonder if it didn't trigger anything else.

- Grey Seers are in permanent contact with the Horned Rat, Lady Katel. It was the first time I ma... well, I did "this" with a female of my race. It was more and more pleasant, and after a few minutes, I felt a very strong emotion.

- As everyone at this time, my young friend. This is normal. But for you, in addition to ecstasy caused by this experience, maybe when you feel for the first time, this emotion aligns your mind with magic channels, allowing you to communicate directly with your god. This is something you don't learn from books, but that is instinctive. And also, for people who live only by following their instincts, it seems plausible. You talked to Vellux?

- Sure, but not right away. When I tasted the warpstone two nights later. And ... oh, now that I think about it... it was weird-weird.

- I bet he was not happy with what you were telling him, am I wrong?

- No, you're right. He seemed satisfied, satisfied, but something told me he was not. I thought it was part of his teaching. I told him about my ideas, how to fight the mage weird-thing Karkadourian, but it didn't please him at all times. Sometimes he became angry.

Katel had a thoughtful pout.

- That's the problem with bullies: difficult to make them change their mind without receive a punch in your face, or a knife in your kidney.

- That doesn't explain his reaction! Why did he do that? I didn't want to disappoint or disobey him, promised-swear!

- I believe you, my little young rat. But not your master. Go figure.

The young ratman coughed again and Katel put him a cloth over his mouth to get his slimy sputum. Psody lowered his head and felt his shoulders sag.

- What am I supposed to do, now-now?

- Don't worry. For now, you must think about nothing but your healing. Tomorrow you'll feel better, the disease will have declined further. And we'll try to see what I can do for you. I feel that you are much more than just a Skaven.

- I'm already more than just a Skaven! Psody replied, vexed. I am a chosen-chosen one!

- Yes, but for people like me, you're just a harmful individual. However, you are destined to a mission quite different than what your master has assigned you, young man. I'm sure. Unconsciously, your brother Klur understood it. And that's why he did what he did with such zeal! He wanted to kill you on an order from your master, but it was not the end, on the contrary! Rather a new beginning! He gave you a solid kick to make you bounce!

- What do you know, Lady Katel?

- His last statement was very special, don't you think?

Psody squinted in the effort of reflection.

- No. Klur was raised by Clan Eshin. Miserable cowards-cowards who attack the front unless they are cornered. And I do not think it is smart-smart enough to push me morally like that.

- You know him better than me, you're probably right, but it doesn't change my mind, I still believe that this has happened to you is not due to chance, as your rebirth in my cabin. You are a chosen one, but not for the reasons you have described your elders.

When she saw his young host yawn, Katel got up.

- Well, it's bedtime now. During your stay here, you will occupy one of the beds in the next room. Remember that resting is the best way to recover.

She took the young ratman in the small room with bunk beds. She opened the cupboard again, and pulled out a white cloth garment with long sleeves, put it in Psody's hands.

- There, that should fit you, that too.

- What is it?

- A nightgown. You wear it to sleep, it is more comfortable. Wear it, choose one of the two beds and sit.

The White Skaven undressed, considered the nightgown from all angles, and threaded it. Katel smiled again.

- Oh, you're cute as a button! Come on, it's time to sleep.

The little ratman lay on the bed below, and pulled the blanket. The old woman approached the bed, put her hand under the bed and pulled out a chamber pot.

- If you have an urge this night.

- A what?

Katel sighed.

- If you want to relieve your bladder or your back hose , you'll do it in this pot, and you'll throw it in the river tomorrow morning. And speaking of that, it's what you do now whenever you have such an envy. When I picked up your dress, I felt a particularly unpleasant odour. You soiled it!

Surprised little White Skaven replied:

- I marked it. Skaven do this to say "this is mine".

- Well, starting today, you stop this disgusting habit! For Humans, you poop only in suitable containers, or perhaps in the wilderness, far from inhabited places, so that the smell doesn't bother anyone. And you do it secluded, in a private corner! Beware if I catch you trying to soil anything or drop your poops anywhere, in front of everyone!

This statement stunned the young ratman, used to let go of these desires without the slightest embarrassment. However, he finally nodded.

- I... I'll try.

- Good. This goes along with the cleanliness and good manners, you know.

Then she put his hand still on his forehead.

- Now, relax. Relax, sleep, and do not think about anything. Remember that as you are under my roof, it absolutely can not happen to you. You're safe, I promise you.

She tucked the White Skaven, and was about to leave the bedroom. Psody murmured:

- Lady Katel?

- Yes, my little young rat?

- I... Thanks.

The old lady shrugged vaguely and closed the door. Alone in the darkness and silence of the room, he closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep.


	7. Tunings

Life in Brissuc went on.

Chitik long wept his missing brother, but resigned himself – could he do otherwise than accepting to never see the little white Skaven again? The presence of Diassyon of Clan Skryre showered at least partially this void. The young brown Skaven often spent his free time with him. He always spoke kindly, made him laugh, made sure he was in a good mood. Chitik constantly watched over him, and didn't hesitate to take risks to defend him physically if necessary.

Diassyon, meanwhile, was delighted to get to know better his big and brawny senior. He didn't show him his inventions, aware that the Black Skaven wouldn't understand how they work, and wouldn't listen to his explanations. But he willingly exchanged with him his thoughts on a particular subject, or laughed at the awkwardness of any other Clanrats with him.

The Warlock Engineer was surprised as he noticed a slight change in Moly. The Pestilens' temper still oscillated between euphoric stupor and bitterness tinged with irritation, but even when his mind wasn't stuck in an artificial fog, he was less unpleasant and less grumpy. He kept more often company with his two brothers, always taking care not to get too close to them when he joined. They had understood he took his distance so as not to infect them, and weren't angry of that. Instead, without telling him, they were grateful for his thoughtfulness. They respected the wish of Plague Deacon Soum, and had tried to be more tolerant to their cadet. And soon, his company became pleasant despite his condition.

In short, the three brothers approached gradually, becoming inseparable. Only Klur of Clan Eshin remained on the sidelines. This didn't upset them. The anthracite Skaven had spent his life in a Clan that proscribed social life. Eshin assassins were solitary and Klur was called to become one of them. Moreover, he scouted more often outside, following orders of Master Assassin Tweezil, and his curved and fleeting shape wasn't visible only by more and more rare intervals. Chitik, Diassyon and Moly formed a stronger trio, and acted with an unusual effectiveness when they were together.

So much so that the other Skaven eventually became intrigued and wary of them. Soon, many rumours circulated as what the four Skaven were treated with more respect than others by the leaders of the colony.

Klur was one of the most effective agents of Clan Eshin, and his accession to the rank of Assassin was only a matter of time, therefore, it was natural that the Master Assassin Tweezil looked after him. In fact, nobody had the courage to openly criticize him in his presence, his talents to give death were now feared throughout the colony. But the other three aroused many questions.

Chitik was recognized as the largest and strongest of all the Stormvermin. Even Great Fang Furghân began to dread him. They had not yet had the opportunity to confront each other, but the chief of Black Skaven knew he wouldn't necessarily win if such an event would happen.

Members of Clan Pestilens saw their comrade Moly behave strangely – a Pestilens spending more time with Skaven from other Clans wasn't normal. One of them, fearing for the reputation of the Clan, had told the Deacon Soum. The old Skaven had shrugged without a word, and of course the answer hadn't been considered satisfying. The Pestilens who had expressed his complaint to Deacon was never seen again. Young Plague Monks became more suspicious about Moly. It became clear the cream-coloured Skaven was protected by someone, most likely the Plague Deacon himself. But why favour a Plague Monk who did not look different from the others?

Diassyon gradually awoke in his fellow of Clan Skryre envy and jealousy. His brain ran in full speed, with boundless energy. Every time he was confided an invention, regardless of its size or complexity, he hastened to disassemble it completely and reassembled it, improving significantly its performance. And machines that went between his paws tended to conk out less often. On the other hand, he escaped a few unfortunate "accidents" that could have cost him his life. A wrong dosage causing an explosion, a burden to a chain weakened by rust falling on him... For other Skryre, doubt was no longer possible, he was also protected than his three brothers.

One day, four Clan engineers apprentices decided to have a discussion with the brown Skaven. They found him tinkering a large building, entirely made of various metals, mounted on wheels. The first to speak was a brown furred Skaven, with a long black and white stripe came down from the neck to the base of the tail.

- You look busy, Diassyon!

- Indeed, Tooshless, and I don't have time to talk.

- What's that thing? asked Fishtol, the second Skaven.

- None of your business!

- I think it looks like a warprail, smaller! articulated the third Skaven in a dazed voice.

Diassyon suspended his gesture, sighed in exasperation and turned his head.

- What do you want me, apprentices? Can't you see I'm in a creative phase?

- Is it a small warprail? insisted Burouf the third Skaven.

And he walked toward the device, hand outstretched. Diassyon barred his way by threatening him with his spanner.

- No touch! Besides, you've never seen warprail!

- You neither, spat out the fourth Skaven, a rather small and stumpy ratman, with a beige coat, named Ziggler.

Diassyon grew impatient.

- Enough-enough! If you have something to tell me, go ahead! Now-now! Or leave me alone!

- We want to warn you, Diassyon murmured Ziggler. We too are tired. You're lucky-lucky, these last days.

- My... my brother was a chosen-chosen one of the Horned Rat! He helps me!

- He's dead Diassyon! Tooshless spat.

- Hey, what's a brother? mumbled Burouf.

- Even in death, I know he watches over me! Diassyon retorted.

Diassyon's feverish gaze became threatening. He hissed between his long incisors:

- Now, beat it!

- We go, said Fishtol. But be careful, watch your back!

The Skaven brown chuckled before whining:

- You idiots-morons! Thank you for warning me, wise guys! I expect to happen to me one day something, but if I manage to escape, I demolish all of four, even if it's not your fault!

Burouf gulped and nodded. Diassyon returned to his machine. The four apprentices looked at each other. Tooshless wanted to upset the Technomage by making an allusion he considered offensive:

- Oh, Diassyon! It seems that the great Black Skaven marked you?

- So what? The Skryre replied without stopping work on his machine.

- You're too coward to get by without you protection, right?

- Chitik is my brother, Tooshless. There was already a bond between us, it has just been reinforced. This is something you'll never understand.

- No kidding! Ziggler taunted. Say rather that you serve him as a toy-toy!

This time, Diassyon stopped and put his tool down. The stumpy apprentice continued:

- Chitik is very big and strong, and Vellux often sends him to the nursery so he can produce other Stormvermin. But the days when he doesn't have the permission to go and he wants to have fun? Ha, I understand! You're his small personal breeder!

It took only a second to the young Warlock Engineer to think about all the possible reactions to such an insult and their consequences, and then select the one that seemed the most appropriate and most effective. He turned in a rustle of leather, while drawing a warpstone gun concealed under his apron. He stretched his right arm with a sharp movement when he faced the young Skryre. The shot banged, and the bullet stroke Ziggler in his forehead, throwing him back a few yards.

The other three looked at the young Warlock Engineer, stupefied. Diassyon drew with his left hand a second gun. They fled in terror as fast as they could with frightened squeaks.

Diassyon drew up his weapons, spat on the still warm corpse, and whispered with a grimace of disgust as an eulogy:

- Don't like to waste my bullets.

Grey Seer Vellux was in a bad mood. Typically, he wasn't a very pleasant company. Like any colony Skaven leader, he jealously preserved his status by threats and free violence. Few things could bring joy in his black and withered heart. However, sources of discontent were legion for him. The incompetence of his subordinates, the lack of space, the stench of the Plague Deacon Soum, the poor air quality, less breathable than he inhaled when he had the courage to come out of the burrow, nervous twitching and itching when he needed warpstone...

For the third time, he read the parchment tanned and cracked man-thing skin a bat had brought him. A message directly originated from Skavenblight, the distant capital of the Skaven Under-Empire, headquarters of the Council of Thirteen.

The Council of Thirteen was actually composed by twelve Lords of Decay, one for each of the four major Clans Eshin, Skryre, Pestilens and Moulder, one with a pair of horns and white fur titled as Seer Lord, all other from minor clans. A few Skaven could boast of having seen them in person. According to rumours, they sat around a large round table equipped with thirteen armchairs, one of which was left empty – these rumours claimed that during some sessions, the dark silhouette of a large Skaven with two pairs of horns, the Horned Rat himself, appeared on this seat.

Lords of Decay were the undisputed masters of Skaven, and no normal son of the Horned Rat was brave or foolish enough to dare to challenge their authority. Sometimes, however, one of them was challenged by a bold chieftain in a duel, after which the winner devoured the vanquished. Thus was the transfer of power.

All Skaven leaders thought at least once in their life to such a duel, and Vellux was no exception. However, he was aware that his hour hadn't yet come, so he chose to obey the orders of the Council of Thirteen whenever he received, even if they had cost him dearly.

Such was the case today. The guidelines of Under-Empire masters were unambiguous.

_"Great invasion soon against men-things city in wetlands. The Council of Thirteen orders Grey Seer Vellux provide half of the Brissuc warpstone, half of his Clanrats and a third of his war machines. Resource recovery next moon"._

Vellux gritted his teeth and hissed in anger.

- Half of my warpstone and my warriors! The third of my machines! Why not send the rest and drop-drop Brissuc to men-things, for that matter? What a madness-madness!

Unconsciously, he kept his voice not to cry, as if was afraid of being heard by one of the Lords of Decay. He quickly opened the ledger he kept regularly updated. He licked his finger with smelly and sticky saliva, and turned the pages one by one.

_Let's see... Um, um... Clanrats... it should suffice. Warpstone… warpstone..._

He had difficulties to resolve consulting the warpstone registers. So much good material that would probably be stupidly wasted due to improper dosages...

_If at least they let me perform the rituals-rituals myself! Why? Why can I never join them?_

A Grey Seer of his calibre could very well be useful on the front, and cover of glory the people of the Under-Empire. Deacon Soum, his most obedient dog, was able to command in his name, and manage the burrow a few days without him. Several times he asked the Council of Thirteen to participate in such manoeuvres. He had never received a positive response. Each rejection made him more aggressive than the last. Was his reputation as "offspring of Thanquol" not a good warranty? The famous Grey Seer had indeed attracted the favour of the Lords of Ruin after the invasion of Nuln ten seasonal cycles earlier. And yet...

_However, these old geezers-fossils do nothing! They are thick-witted! Or maybe they are afraid of me?_

After all, Vellux was a White Skaven, a chosen one of the Horned Rat, a special feature only the Seer Lord shared with him. The condescending pity that the Lords of Decay showed to him was probably a way to hide their fear of his mental and intellectual superiority. Finally, he read the page. He clenched his fists in anger. When he arrived at the list of war machines, he saw with a cry of frustration that the colony would find himself virtually defenceless once the machines sent to Skavenblight. He bit his tail furiously several times. A few drops of blood pearled on its pink flesh.

He got up and left his office. It was time to remind Clan Skryre who was the master. Hurrying, he crossed the galleries. Skaven he met strongly deviated on his way, feeling angry musk emanating from his glands. He was never good to irritate an already irritated Grey Seer.

The White Skaven stumbled, twisted his ankle, and yelped in pain and rage. He leaned against a wall of tin, and swore:

- May the Horned Rat have mercy on me, I'm surrounded by good for nothing!

He quickened his pace, limping, and arrived to the heavy bronze door of the Clan Skryre district. He pulled on the rope of appeal, and a bell rang. As there was no immediate reaction, he shouted:

- Come on, open now! Otherwise, I'll get angry-angry!

A strong clank answered this invective, and the door swung slowly in a large steam machinery hissing, revealing the sector of the most confusing Clan of Sons of the Horned Rat.

Clan Skryre was the most powerful of the four major Clans of Skaven society. Even in burrows where there was no majority as Brissuc, it showed an impression of absolute dominion over all what was touched by his representatives. As with all major Clans, the architecture of the neighbourhood was in the image of its inhabitants.

The White Skaven evolved into a huge cavern, in which crowded shacks made of bits and pieces with all materials pawed by Warlock Engineers. Some were the result of looting on small men-things communities. The huts were made with mud, planks of wood, whole plates of metal, and although none was straight, they were stable. Creations of Clan Skryre were really twisted, but relatively reliable, as they didn't use warpstone-based energy.

Hundreds of copper cables crossed the gallery in all directions, connecting the buildings together. Some were lying on the ground, others stretched under the arch like a giant net. Most troubling was that these cables were regularly traversed by small multicoloured sparks, which emitted sharp cracklings in their path. Dozens of transparent glass globes hung in a completely anarchic way to ropes, and the energy intermittently illuminated them as it ran through them. Vellux strove to put his bare feet between the cables, and he lifted his tail not to let lying on the floor. He knew that any contact with either of these spark cables, without being necessarily mortal, could provoke very unpleasant sensations.

At the bottom of the cave had been erected the Grand Workshop, where Master Warlock Engineer Mabrukk imagined and his conceived twisted inventions. The Grey Seer saw on his left an enclosure to which spun a curved silhouette. He recognised Psody's the elder brother.

_Crazy, but effective. I'll enjoy it._

He approached the workspace, and found the young Warlock Engineer sitting atop a curious wheeled engine. The Skryre was wringing two pieces of iron together with his tool.

- Diassyon! he barked.

The brown Skaven blenched, and jumped down before flowing on the ground at the foot of the Grey Seer.

- I am at your service, o almighty perfect incarnation of the Horned Rat!

Fear evaporated through the pores of the Warlock Engineer deliciously tickled the nose of the White Skaven, who smirked. Diassyon was perhaps not as obedient as Klur, but he knew to show the deference that was needed. The smell pleased Vellux, he wanted more, so the young Skaven should panic. For this, nothing like a little reprimand.

- Diassyon, my patience is very thin! Tired-tired of having to go through all the terrier from one end to the other! What does Clan Skryre?

- Uh... The Master Engineer does everything he can, oh your distinguished eminence!

- How liar he is! He has already promised a farsqueaker, but I don't still have it, and yet I want one!

The "farsqueaker" was a revolutionary device designed by one of the best Warlock Engineers of these last annual cycles. During his training in the great city of Sub-Nuln, Vellux's master showed him the farsqueaker. This extraordinary machine allowed two Skaven to talk through a magic window as if they were face to face, so they could be thousands of miles from each other. Of course, the operation required an abominable power source, and a few minutes of use cost the lives of three or four slaves. But no sacrifice was too great for the glory of the Horned Rat. Vellux had a mad desire to have such a device in Brissuc.

He continued his diatribe.

- And you... this machine you're building! How do you call it?

- The... the "rollsover" my master with perfect intelligence.

- I want you to hurry! This "rollsover" should be operational in the next few moons Diassyon! I pit my feet by treading this dust! I want-want a chariot which can move alone! No more sedan chair who stumble, just me flying! You'd better move your ass if you don't want to end up in a furnace!

The brown Skaven squeaked in panic, then in pain as Vellux bruised his back with a kick.

- Come on, move, you worm!

- Now, o supreme-awesome-wonderful master!

Diassyon jumped on his rollsover and resumed work by tightening three times faster. The White Skaven hid a small grin cruel and swerved to the main building.

The Grand Workshop was a concentration of constructive insanity. Machines were gathered under the roof of the building. On one side, the Skryre had piled a few warpstone heavy weapons: mortars, cannons, wheeled giant flamethrowers – individual weapons like jezzails guns, warpstone pistols and gas globes were more carefully kept in a reinforced shelter some yards away. On the other side, there were twenty worktables on which were piled hundreds of components, parts in more or less good condition.

Master Warlock Engineer Mabrukk was busy in the middle of twenty Skaven. He was easily recognizable. Slightly smaller than average, with a sand-coloured fur, he distinguished from others by his size. In fact, used to play the hammer on the anvil and carry heavy burdens, he had particularly broad shoulders and big hands with gnarled fingers. He wore a jacket composed of multiple pockets and straps utilities, allowing him to always have an impressive collection of tools on himself. The most remarkable was his "biggeye" that covered half of his facies, a huge lens directly screwed on his head, before his left eye, which allowed him to see the smallest details when he tinkered something demanding accuracy.

Mabrukk leaned on one worktables, gently took a small metal object between two fingers, and looked it under all angles. Vellux saw the green eye of the Skaven in very large through the giant monocle. The other was too concentrated to realising the arrival of the Grey Seer. His eyes widened, furious.

- Dikhâl! That's what you call a "congruent-congruent component"?!

He turned on his heel and threw angrily the mechanical part of one of his apprentices who yelped in pain. Vellux grew impatient, and coughed loudly to attract the attention of the Skryre Chief. Master Warlock Engineer started, and his face stretched in ear. He knelt and bowed his head swiftly.

- A thousand apologies, o eternal light of the colony! Your humble slave didn't hear you.

- I've noticed! So, Master Warlock Engineer Mabrukk, problems with your servants?

- Nothing that I can't solve, o supreme best-master of our terrier!

- You should!

The Grey Seer slowly walked around the Skryre, without saying a word. Master Warlock Engineer swallowed, and once again, the musk of fear pleasantly caressed his nostrils of the White Skaven. His ardour redoubled.

- The Lords of Decay demand-demand war machines and weapons, Master Warlock Engineer. I order you to craft me twice that contains your hutch, by next moon!

The sand-fur Skaven had a long shudder. He repeated, stammering:

- Next… moon?

- Yes, next moon! Not a night longer!

- But... it will exhaust my Warl...

- Not my problem! Vellux cut. My problem is to deliver the cargo to the ones sent by the Council of Thirteen when they come in one moon! And I don't want our colony left without defence after their passage! So you'll move your butt, kick those of your minions, and make me new machines, pronto!

He supported this statement with a slap on Mabrukk's ear. The latter jumped, and ran across the lab calling out to all his underlings. The Grey Seer sighed with disdain, and left the workshop. He stepped outside, reviewing Diassyon in the corner of his eye, and went his way to his lab. When he was about to cross the heavy steam door, he stopped when he heard the thud of a big explosion. Probably one of the boilers too much supplied... He passed his hand over his face.

_All incapable-incapable!_

Moly of Clan Pestilens was leaning over a large pot of blackened iron, and stirred with a long wooden spoon a bluish mixture with particularly repugnant aroma. Beside him, Plague Deacon Soum was watching the operation of his single eye, arms crossed. He put one of his decaying hands on the shoulder of his apprentice, and whispered in his ear:

- Add therefore something from yourself-yourself.

The young Plague Monk was a little shiver, feeling the icy touch of the fingers of his master through the heavy tissue of his dress. He hesitated, then had an inspiration. He opened his mouth wide, slipped two fingers down his jaw and grabbed one of his molars. He pulled, his face creased with pain, and with a small sharp crack, the tooth left his gums. Without hesitation, he threw it into the potion.

- Good, good, Soum chuckled. Others just take their blood or some hair. This is solid-solid!

The young Plague Monk tossed another minute. Bubbles gouged on the liquid surface, emitting sparks. Some plumes of purple smoke rose. Moly breathed a full breath, and felt all the hairs of his fur bristling. He turned his head to the Deacon, who laughed seeing his face.

- Perfect! It is ready-ready!

Soum crawled to the wall, and picked up a ladle. He reaped a good swig of the mixture, and approached a man-thing attached to a rack. The prisoner screamed and spat on the Deacon. He sneered.

- Come and help me, my boy. Open its beak!

The young Plague Monk trotted towards the man-thing, and grabbed its head. On the one hand, he pinched its nose and turned, with the other he grabbed its chin and his claws dug into its cheeks. Quickly, the thing-man cried. Deacon poured with a sharp movement the contents of the ladle into the throat of the prisoner. It coughed violently. Moly pulled his hands over his mouth to keep it closed. After a few seconds, the facies of the man-thing changed colour to become red. It stopped waving, and moved no more.

- Wait a moment...

The man-thing widened its eyes and began to scream, scream, while waving more frantically. It pulled on its chains. At the third attempt, the bridge broke, and it could free its left hand. Moly started, and drew his knife from his robe. Deacon raised his hand.

- No, wait.

The man-thing grabbed with its free hand the chain holding its right hand and pulled it into a movement. It straightened and bent over to unfetter its ankles. Moly felt fear galloping in his nervous system, and springing from his glands. He looked panicked to Soum. This latter didn't move, only looked closely at the man-thing.

- Master, we can't...

- Quiet, Moly.

- But it will be free-free!

And given the state of destructive rage in which it found itself, the prisoner would probably have any difficulty to reduce both of them to pieces. Moly could fight, but he had to put in condition for it, using a drug he had to swallow minutes before the fight. Already, the wood around the iron holding its left foot cleaved in a crack of splinters.

- Master, it will kill-kill us! cried the young Monk.

- Finish it! the Deacon dryly ordered.

Te old Skaven didn't need to repeat it. The cream Skaven fell on the prisoner and thrust his knife into its chest. The man-thing groaned in pain, but didn't stop stirring. Moly felt his panic rise to a climax. With shrill squeal, he slashed a dozen times the prisoner's chest. The man-thing gave a hoarse roar, and collapsed on the easel. The smell of blood dripping on its chest assailed the muzzle of the young Skaven, and inflamed his nervous system. He jumped on the prisoner, snatched its throat with his carious incisors. He tore the flesh, greedily sucked the blood, and drank freely.

When he was sated, he calmed down and realised he was astride the still warm corpse of the man-thing, completely smeared with blood from head to toe. Deacon of Death chuckled.

- Well! That was a beautiful concoction, wasn't it?

Ashamed, Moly got down, bowed his head and closed his eyes. He so hoped to remain master of his violent impulses! Deacon Soum didn't seem offended, however. He simply said:

- Kneel down and pray the Horned Rat. Thank-thank him for giving you so much inspiration.

The young cream Skaven swiftly obeyed. He flattened out on the ground, his forehead touched the ground pad. He silently stammered a confused prayer. A fresh breeze passed over his legs.

- You will be a great Plague Priest, Moly...

The young cream Skaven continued his prayer, as he paused, feeling something caressing his backside. He raised his head, threw a glance over his shoulder and gasped. He realised that in the rush, kneeling, his dress was tucked on his waist, and the Deacon had his hand on his rump! He jumped and walked hastily away, pulling firmly down the rough cloth of his dress. Soum backed with a little embarrassed laugh.

- Oh... my old paws are wandering.

Moly might be young, he wasn't born yesterday. The Pestilens were formally banned from nurseries of Brissuc, to avoid contamination on females. They could not therefore know the pleasure of the experience of reproduction. Generally, their hormones were subdued by the drugs they consumed all day long. But perhaps with age, eventually the brain go haywire, giving absurd thoughts?

_He wants me to do the breeder-breeder!_

Anger surpassed fear. He yelled:

- I obey-obey you for the glory of the Horned Rat, but I won't do anything else!

The Deacon's eye blinked several times through his hood, and he stammered:

- Of course! I understand. Know that you are precious-precious to me. I can be your closest friend, don't ever forget this.

The old Skaven cast a last look at the body of the slave.

- Okay, that's enough for today. Go do your ablutions, meditate a while, and sleep. The next few days will be difficult-painful.

Moly backed toward the door of the laboratory, without daring to turn his back to Deacon. Soum sneered again. The young Skaven bumped his shoulder trying to leave the room, and then hastily withdrew.

Moly ran, ran, to a large copper cylinder sixty feet in diameter. He passed through the side door, and found himself in a small anteroom. He sat down on a bench and took his head in both hands.

_What can I do, what can I do? If I talk to Vellux, he will beat me, and Soum will kill me! If I say nothing, Soum will want to mate me!_

The unfortunate Skaven spent several long minutes to think. He didn't want to be a toy for the old Deacon at all. But was death not a worse fate? Then he had an inspiration.

_I have two brothers! Maybe they can do something!_

Diassyon was pretty smart. Above all, he seemed willing to make him happy. Perhaps would he have an idea? Of course, it should never not taught to the Grey Seer, or any other Skaven being an authority figure, but there was probably another solution? The Skryre could invent something to help him defend against the Deacon if he became too enterprising? Or else, provoke a deadly accident? Yes! It was a way.

_If he tries to paw me, I ask Diassyon to do something!_

Reassured, he decided to follow the advice of Deacon and meditate a while in the pond of communion. He dropped his robe to the ground and began to slowly pull the strips which enclosed his members off.


	8. A new beginning

Psody stayed nearly three months at old Katel's home. It took him a week to recover from his disease, and his wound needed ten more days to heal completely. His fur was lush enough to make it invisible. Katel nursed him with admirable dedication and endured his bad mood without ever losing her calmness. Only his recovery seemed important to her. She showed understanding, but could also look extremely firm when she considered her protégé had a childish behaviour.

She also wanted to prepare to follow his path again. Also, when the fever had fallen and he could again concentrate, she undertook to teach him the basics of Human social rules. He wasn't reluctant, on the contrary, his natural curiosity led him to listen. Thus he retained the most common manners according to the customs of the citizens of the Empire :no longer see others as slaves or potential enemies, use politeness without useless flattery, whatever the rank of the speaker, talk with distinction avoiding sniffing, scratching or picking his nose, avoiding certain shocking topics of conversation prefer reflection and discussion instead of violence, and have a better consideration of the fair sex.

It was difficult for the White Skaven to assimilate the concept of cleanliness, he who had lived his whole life without ever worrying about his hygiene. Again, Katel displayed treasures of patience to get used to staying clean at all times. It finally seemed nicer, and soon it was a pleasure for him to take a bath every two or three days and be beautiful. Maintain his fur and horns became a daily ritual.

He also had to concentrate long to learn how to behave while eating, and just settle for three hearty meals between sunrise and sunset – generally, Skaven ate more often in their corner, and at full speed. His stomach gradually adapted to this new rhythm, and he discovered the whole social dimension related to sharing these moments, completely non-existent for his kind.

Katel also taught her protégé to speak, read and write reikspiel. After a month, she no longer needed to use magic to communicate with him. The old woman had to resolve to leave him again repeat the important words from time to time.

In exchange for these lessons, the White Skaven had to work.

First, some interior tasks not so tiring, and when he could stay outside, he accomplished more physical utility labours: fetch water from the nearby river, maintain the kitchen garden, chop wood. The first day, he did it with very bad grace, saying these activities unworthy of his rank of chosen one, and Katel had to use rather persuasive arguments to reason him. Gradually, however, his desire to thank Katel took precedence over his pride. He gradually understood the importance of this work, especially when the old woman made him taste a delicious soup made with the vegetables he cared. In the end, he himself took initiatives to help the hermit to make repairs, improvements, refurbishments by here and there.

A friendship was born. Each evening, before going to sleep, they spent several hours talking about their experiences with magic around a tea. One day, a contingent of a dozen marked by Chaos bandits wanted to storm the cabin, and the two occupants had spent a very funny moment in repelling their assailants with a great spell rampage, each commenting humorous performances of the other. The sight of the unfortunate scampering survivors had made the White Skaven laugh as he had never done in his life.

One thing bothered both solitaries: Psody still couldn't get to sleep. The betrayal of Klur, questions and these horrible nightmares haunted him forever. He didn't speak about it, yet Katel felt he dreamed of things that terrified him. She respected his silence, but worried seeing some mornings his eyes reddened by tears and fatigue, and his screams kept her awake some nights. The young ratman was more sorry .

Came the night Katel finally said:

- You can be a very pleasant company, Psody. I has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

- Me too, Lady Katel. But... you're using the past? Did I something... that would have upset you?

- Not at all, my boy. But I thought, and I think now you have nothing more to learn from me. You are healed, it is time for you to move forward.

Psody sighed.

- Ah ... Well, you're probably right, he said in a pained voice.

- Oh, my little young rat! You're not going to stay here all your life! You have your whole future ahead of you! And it's not here you'll find answers to your questions! I'm just a senile old fool and lonely woman.

- No, Lady Katel. You're a good fairy.

The old woman laughed.

- Well! I wish I had the grace of a Dryad! Seriously, you can't stay screaming and crying all night long, and let your visions torment you like this again and again! It saddens me, but I'm not a fairy, and I can't do anything more for you. You must seek and find the answers elsewhere!

- I''s true. And then, you've already helped me a lot.

- I don't want to forsake you aimlessly. Do you have at least an idea of where to start your new route?

- Yes, I've been thinking. I need to find-find Gotrek and Felix.

- Even if in your visions, they laugh at you and kill you?

- It's not so simple. I feel that's not me they want to destroy. And that's not I who am angry against them. It's as if I saw through the eyes of someone else. The Dwarf would never talk to me, but I feel Felix will listen to me. I want to meet him. At worst, if they hurt me... at least I'll have my answer-response.

Katel slowly nodded and leaned his head slightly to the side when she asked:

- How do you intend to find them?

- I'll go back to the Skaven.

- What? But you said they would gut you!

- I'll go to a colony far from Brissuc, near a big Human city. I'll demand their spies-spies ask their contacts to tell me where I could meet these people. I am a Grey Seer, they will have to obey me, I'll give a false name for safety and I'll flee quickly. And then... the Horned Rat only knows. But I won't return to my kind. I promise you I won't forget all what you taught me.

- I don't ask you, you know. You must act according to your will, not mine, otherwise you lose your freedom, and I wouldn't be better than Vellux. Well, go to bed, tomorrow will be a long day.

The next morning, Katel helped the young ratman to do his bundle. She left him a spare doublet, the nightgown, a blanket, a bottle full of fresh water, and some dried food rations with a small bag of cookies.

She accompanied him to the edge of the marsh. The trip lasted an hour during which they could still talk. Finally, the earth solidified, covered with grass, the plain took its rights in the mud. The time had come to say goodbye. Psody had trouble speaking.

- Well... I don't know if we'll meet again?

- Oh, who knows? But the Empire is great, and my cabin is tiny. I've learned you some things, but you still have many other people to see. I'm sure there will be willing to talk to you as I did, especially if you show that you know Human customs. But choose wisely, for open-minded people are exceedingly rare.

- I think this Felix Jaeger is one. Indeed, I hope.

The young ratman stopped, turned to the witch, and tightened the strap of his backpack.

- How can I thank you?

- You've already done, young Psody.

- How?

- First, you allowed me, in spite of you, I recognize, to mother you a while, and it reminded me of good memories. Then, you shared pleasant moments of conversation from magician to magician with me, which had not happened for many years. The house is now much more beautiful than before, thanks to your efforts. Finally, the fact that you don't reject everything I told you.

- I'm still a Skaven, a son of the Horned Rat. One of his chosen ones. I must honour him.

- Of course, and no son should ever disappoint his father. But remember your god never told you personally what he was expecting from you.

- He wants my people can live and prosper at the surface.

- - Probably, but does it have to involve the destruction of all other peoples? Maybe not. We, Humans, are living with the Dwarves and Elves, and we do what we can for there to be a balance. This is not the greatest happiness, but at least we communicate, we trade, we manage together.

- I still have visions of Humans who want me dead! And the cold-things that torture this Grey Seer! It is as if my race was doomed to be chased by all the others! This is what our writings say.

- Forget the fables the Grey Seers put into you skull. Vellux gave you his version of the so-called word of the Horned Rat, but he has been a young ignorant apprentice likeyou, whose master transmitted him only what he wanted. And unlike you, he hadn't the chance to see things under another angle, and have the choice between several interpretations. As a representative of your god, it is normal that you care for the welfare of your people, but consider what you feel is more important than what Vellux allows you to feel. This is what makes you who you really are, Psody. The "free will". It is an expression worn by dint of being used, but its value is nothing altered. And this is a unique gift, which you may be the sole beneficiary of all Skaven. Discover your completely free will, assume it, and your destiny will really start.

The White Skaven had a little pout and nodded slowly.

- Don't imagine a world where Skaven and men-things – I mean, Humans – will walk hand in hand, Lady Katel. It will never work.

- Don't worry, I'm not so naive. I don't expect anything good from the entire Skaven people. Anyway, Humans have their share of responsibility in this conflict. As the population is also terrified by the sermons of their leaders and unable to think for itself, it will remain hopelessly narrow-minded. But I'm already very happy to have been able to give my opinion to at least one of them without he tried to rip my head with his teeth. And if I hear a story about a White Skaven with unusual methods, who tries to see things in a less conventional, more human way... I know it's you, or better yet, another chosen one that would have walked in your steps.

Psody straightened his bundle again, sighed a little bit, and without understanding how, found himself to embrace the old woman.

- Thanks for everything, he said in a knotted voice.

- For the Horned Rat, I don't know, my little young rat, but for me, the time of your stay under my roof, you have been an adorable son.

The White Skaven felt his heart leap into his chest. He had never thought possible to hear this word applied to him. The old woman released her delicate grip, and said:

- Here, I have one last gift to you.

The witch came out of his big bag a small leather bag, and handed it to Psody.

- Promise me you will not open the package once in a less messy than the marsh.

- Promised-promised.

- Come on, now we must separate. And I have to thank you. You allowed a miserable disillusioned recluse to feel a last time a fire of life in her old and dried heart. I expected no more this experience for a long time. And especially, as you have not met this Felix Jaeger yet, do not approach Humans! Remember they won't be as accommodating as me!

- I won't forget it, Lady Katel.

- Good luck, Psody, chosen one of the Horned Rat.

- May he reward your generosity.

- He has already done.

Psody wiped a tear that was tickling the corner of his eye, smiled one last time, turned on his heel and walked away without looking back.

Another hour later, he was completely out of the swamp. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw nothing other than a few birds flying between the trees, and the dirt road he had followed. He thought it was time to find out what Katel had prepared.

He opened the bag, rummaged eagerly inside, felt something soft. He put the bag down, took its content with both hands, pulled it out of its case, and uttered a surprised exclamation seeing that it was a dress. A dress that vaguely reminded him the clothes he had received from Grey Seer Vellux, but the comparison quickly stopped. Tissues were very thin, dark blue colour, with copper embroidered designs. Sleeve edges and neck were reinforced with cloth of gold. In the back, he saw a stylized embroidery depicting the head of a White Skaven with long straight horns, like his.

Overjoyed, he ran in the direction of the swamp, and shouted:

- Thank you, thank you, Lady Katel!

Psody followed the rocky dirt roads traced by Humans to join their nearest big city. He always walked at night, thus limiting the risk of falling on humans. The darkness of the night didn't affect his sharpened senses. When the first light of dawn brightened the horizon behind him, he left the road, and buried himself in a few minutes in a hole, where he could sleep undisturbed until the following night.

He watched carefully to always move in the direction of a place called "Marienburg". It was a huge city located on the seaside. Psody had never seen the sea He felt the atmosphere changed as he approached. The air became more salty, and he soon discovered the perfume of sea spray. It wasn't unpleasant. The land was cleared, but there were enough bushes so he could hide when he smelt the typical odour of Humans. He took so little risk of getting caught. Generally, Humans travelled in groups, and halted when the first stars appeared. Psody watched as half a dozen camps of Human travellers, more curious than worried. He heard their conversations, and stood well aware of what was happening.

One rumour in particular constantly returned.

Humans were as superstitious as Skaven, and feared the wrath of their gods. They also sought to obtain their favours, and watched for the slightest beneficial sign. Katel, much less isolated than she seemed, applied to keep informed of the political situation of the country. She had explained the small Skaven White that their chief god was Sigmar, the Human who had united the fifteen major tribes to establish the current Empire, two thousand and five hundred years earlier. Two years before, a terrible war between Humans and the forces of Chaos – so did Humans call the weird-things –had torn through the world. After sowing death and destruction on their way, the demons were finally stopped at the edge of a great city on a mountain at north of the Empire. The main lord of Humans, Karl Franz, had battled and defeated the general of the army of Chaos. Another hero was shown, a warrior named Valten.

This Valten had been recognised as the reincarnation of Sigmar, explained Katel. A champion at the height of Skaven Verminlords, the favourites of the Horned Rat invested with a part of his powers. Unfortunately, shortly after his victory over the Chaos, someone took advantage of the recovery of the imperial champion to murder him. Psody had repeated the witch what Klur told the day of his passage into adulthood, as that someone was Master Assassin Snikch of Clan Eshin.

However, from what the little ratman heard repeatedly, a young child who bore the mark Human god Sigmar had recently been spotted. A great "holy crusade" was formed around him in this city called Marienburg. Some saw a dark deception, others hope for a better future. What surprised the most the young Skaven White was to learn how these disagreements could be pests. Disputes degenerated into battles between zealots on each side.

These dissensions weakened Human communities, and the enemies of the Empire took the opportunity to undermine it on all fronts. Hordes of Orcs came from the south, and Skaven had been spotted out of their sewers and venturing into the streets of cities of the neighbouring kingdom, where lied Skavenblight.

In summary, Humans were always afraid of everything and everyone. And fear drove them to become extremely violent, like the Sons of the Horned Rat. And just as these Sons of the Horned Rat, internal conflicts erupted everywhere Humans were sufficiently numerous.

Also Psody was not so surprised by what he saw when he arrived near the village of Glückswiese. In contrast, another conflict much deeper should seriously shake him this evening.

To scout locations, he climbed the top of a large hill. The salty wind blowed more distinctly in his direction. He widened his eyes, and distinguished in the distance a spectacle he admired for the first time in his life. It was a huge smooth expanse that stretched out of sight. It seemed both still and moving. Small plumes of foam appeared on its surface intermittently. A growl gently stroked his eardrums. Yes, it was a nice, soothing steady sound. Craning his neck forward, he noticed long light bands along the moving surface. His pink eyes focused onto small dark spots going up and down with the movements of the surface. Boats. However, boats could move only on water. So, the little ratman thought, this great dark plain was not made up of land, but water.

Sand lapped by waves of salt water. This corresponded to the description of Katel. Yes, no doubt. Psody smiled without realising it as he understood he was contemplating the sea. A curious reaction for a Skaven who didn't like so much water.

Later, he spotted strange shapes too regular and too disparate to be natural, on which lights twinkled here and there. It could be nothing else than the city of Humans, the great Marienburg.

He was approaching his goal, he knew. He was close to meet the Marienburg Skaven, and ask them to help him find Gotrek and Felix.

He ran down the hill, and resumed his walk. There was still some way to go.

A few hours passed, and the daylight slowly emerged, when he saw behind a hill orange glows. His eyes distinguished plumes of black smoke, while his ears heard characteristics cracklings.

_Fire..._

But not panicked cries, Human or otherwise. In contrast, there was no sound, nor man, nor Skaven or animal.

Eager to have the last word of this story, Psody quickened his pace. He soon arrived on the front of the village. A panel indicated "Glückswiese". The little White Skaven immediately felt the odour of death. Carrion, scorched earth, blood... His ears stood at furious buzzing of first flies. Desolation had descended on these place. Several houses were burning, others were already nothing but charred ruins.

A few more steps, and the little ratman found himself in the middle of the houses, on the main road. He shivered again. Corpses piled everywhere. Dozens and dozens of dead people, probably the whole village, were scattered in the muddy ground. Men, women, children. Some were horribly mutilated, and an unimaginable suffering wrung their features. Psody took a few moments to inspect some of the bodies. Some appeared to have been cut with a sword, others crushed with bludgeons, and some showed signs of dry and round burns, especially in the vital organs such as the head or the heart.

_Hum... traces of pistols and muskets..._

He lifted his nose and sniffed several times. He didn't feel the slightest trace of magic in the air, nor warpstone vapour.

_Only physical, no warp._

There were only dead Humans. Psody had seen two or three battlefields during his lifetime. Humans were used to collect and bury their dead after battles. The enemy corpses were usually burned. But this kind of collection didn't intervene until the end a battle, if there were still survivors. In this case, the conflict was still too recent for the practice of such an operation. The little ratman then realised it was a conflict between Humans, and all these people belonged to both camps who fought.

_Two different villages? Two factions in this village? Maybe there were more camps-camps?_

In truth, it was difficult to determine. He didn't know Humans enough to clearly distinguish a banner, a uniform, or any other sign of recognition. He couldn't see the distinctive signs that could differentiate different ethnic groups of Humans, such as Skaven shades of colour fur. His only certainty was that he was dealing with a conflict between Humans.

He got up, and continued his voyage in small steps. He saw a gun on the ground. It wasn't a warplock pistol of Clan Skryre, but it was enough to kill. He examined it carefully, and had a nasty smile as he saw it was loaded.

A loud crash sounded behind him. He jumped, turned on his heel, his weapon pointed to the end of his two trembling arms. No one or nothing, just a big cloud of dust around the cottage which just had collapsed. Psody took a deep breath and started again.

While moving, he looked around. It was the first time in his life he could walk in a Human village without being pressed by time, or fear for his immediate safety – at least in appearance. He applied to analyze the terrain, to reconnoitre.

_Well, this large building in the centre is the home of the richest inhabitant. The "Melior"... no! "Mayor"! This building with the bell is like the Temple of the Horned Rat, a temple for one of their gods. There is an enclosure where they put their animals for meat and milk. How Chitik called it, already? "Cows"._

All cows were lying in the field, cut in pieces. The smell of rotting meat mixed with coagulated blood tickled his nostrils, and awoke in the depths of his gut feelings he had not felt for a long time. His fur bristled, while his facial muscles were stretched one after another. The desire to kill, the urge to destroy, to shed blood, this intrinsic to Skaven personality rage resurfaced. He felt this itch growing slowly but surely.

A slew of memories paraded in his young bubbling mind. Indeed, it was like at Maraksberg. What ecstasy he had felt before the parterre of Human corpses at his feet! How the Horned Rat should have been proud of him that night!

He was interrupted in his thoughts by a small regular noise. His ears swivelled in the direction whence the sound. It was a hoarse breathing, driven by the unfortunate victim of a nasty injury, fearing for its life.

He turned on his heels, and saw. It was a Human. No longer a child, but not quite a man, he wore the tunic and breeches of local farmers. Its face was smeared with sweat and soot, its eyes bulging by traumatic hours it had spent. Sitting on the floor, leaning against a wall, it held its sides, while its shirt was red with blood. Their eyes met. The Human widened further its eyes, and its breath stopped. Psody instantly felt a fear mingled with repulsion coming from the wounded, and this perfume quickly masked the scent of blood. The small White Skaven raised swiftly his gun at it, and slowly approached.

He then felt his own face twitching in anger as he slowly approached the wounded. Once again, his instincts, as the will of his god spoke.

_Men-things are our enemies. My sacred duty is to exterminate them!_

The Human held its breath, not daring to speak, but its eyes cried distinctly "please, spare me".

_You're begging clemency from a Skaven! An horrible Skaven. Your nightmare. How dare you!  
_

_A member of the supreme race. A Son of the Horned Rat. And not any Son._

_A Chose One. A Grey Seer destined to lead his people to victory._

_No... Not just any chosen one. I, Psody!_

Once again, images jostled in the mind of the young ratman, who began to tremble. He saw the contemptuous sneer of Klaus, felt Klur's deceit, he remembered the enthusiastic sermons of Vellux, the pleasure of seeing warm blood spurting and splattering his white coat, the pride he felt the day of his appointment as Grey Seer...

_I, Psody... a... a..._

Other more recent memories titillated his memory. The malaise that had seized him when he ate warpstone, the mistreatment of breeders, the worried face of Chitik, always at his side when he felt sick... the warmth of the sun on his face, the taste of vegetable soup, the cool clear water of the river on his fur. Finally, he thought to Katel.

_An adorable son...?_

Katel, who had saved his life, and had treated him as nobody ever did. The quiet of her home. Kindness and joy of living that emanated from her. Her wonderful gift. He realised he was about to turn back definitely what he had learned from her. What would she say on seeing him behave so? This thought overwhelmed his heart. The gun was heavier between his fingers.

The wounded man fell from the fear of death to misunderstanding as he saw the Skaven change gradually its expression. Its facies twisted by rage relaxed, and soon it presented nothing but a deep sadness. The surprise of the young man was complete when he saw a bright tear sliding down its nose. The white ratman lowered its arm, slipped its gun in its belt, turned around and disappeared at the street corner.

END OF THE FIRST PART


	9. Complications

Second Part: Of Skaven and MenChapter 9: Complications

The large copper cylinder was planted right in the middle of the cave like a watch tower. However, this was no defence or attack device. A few decades earlier, by digging a tunnel to enlarge their colony, the Skaven had found by chance this sixty feet wide for double height tank. The most versed in the knowledge of technology Son of the Horned Rat, the Master Warlock Engineer of the terrier, had recognised the expertise of their thousand times accursed enemies, the dwarf-things. Eager to the idea of using it as a boiler, he had outlined several blueprints to the head of terrier, a decrepit Skaven of Clan Pestilens. He had talked about possibilities, therefore energy intake, new weapons... so many things that would have greatly improved the quality of life in Brissuc, while ensuring unmatched prestige to his Clan, Clan Skryre, and to himself, at the same time.

However, to his amazement, the elder Pestilens had all rejected outright, preferring to dedicate this discovery to use exclusively for himself and his servants. The Master Warlock Engineer had shown surprised, chagrined and angry to the point of fomenting a revolt that was quickly suppressed. The head of terrier sentenced him to serve as an experience subject for Mutators of Clan Moulder. He was delighted to see that the mutineer had proved much more effective and obedient as a Rat Ogre.

Some seasonal cycles sufficed to everyone to forget the names of the two protagonists, their fight, and their very existence. The tank, however, remained in the state. The Plagye Deacon of then named it as a "room of communion with the Horned Rat". A place where only the Skaven of Clan Pestilens had permission to enter. Moreover, no Skaven complained, because only those who had the mark of the plague were able to support the environment created inside the cylinder.

The Monks of Clan Pestilens penetrated it by a round hatch that opened to a small anteroom. Skaven could leave their belongings in this lock, then take another wheel door to enter the tank itself. This place, no doubt, was the dirtiest, most disgusting, most vile of the entire terrier. On command of the former Deacon, the Pestilens had made in a few weeks a sanctuary where they could be alone, or in small groups.

Members of Clan Pestilens had a special place in Skaven society. Their closest relationship with disease condemned them to stay away from members of other Clans, and from the breeders sector. Apart the offices dedicated to the Horned Rat and battles in his name, they never mingled with Skaven of other Clans. They also had this mean to rest their body and soul, and to exchange a few words with their counterparts.

Waste of all kinds floated lazily in three feet high blackish water. The smell was so acrid, sickening and strong that no normally consisted nostril could endure it without bleeding. The lapping of wavelets reverberated on the metal walls of the cylinder, as well as small pops drops moisture on the surface of the water. From time to time, squeaks and light footsteps rats burst also the silence.

None of all those things disturbed the Skaven who was locked in that cesspool. He was lying on his back, naked, arms crossed, eyes closed, and was quietly floating among the garbage. The filthy water seeped into his numerous open sores and irritated his eczematous skin on which slipped slugs, larvae and other small vermin.

Moly of Clan Pestilens was meditating. The young ratman, aged four seasonal cycles and a half-dozen moons, focused on each sensation the smallest part of his plagued by decay body was feeling. Every slight shift of water along the hairs of his scanty fur, each contact with an artificial or organic detritus on his skin. He visualised himself in this position, attentive to the slightest stimulus, as if he was trying to see himself through the eyes of a spectator standing above him. Thus, he became master of his carnal and hoped perfectly control the operation of each of his organs.

This private ritual was also a way to commune with the Horned Rat. Disease was one of the facets of the tutelary deity of the Skaven, and Pestilens embodied this aspect, as well as the Eshin symbolized the terror of darkness. The Pestilens "maintained" the fauna in their fur and the diseases in their body by bathing regularly in this kind of place to be closer to their god, and as they were usually under the influence of hallucinogenic substances, this experience was pleasant to them.

Not for the cream Skaven, which felt tingling in his many infected wounds, despite the fog that clouded his mind. He heard a slight movement on his right in the water. He stretched out his arm with surprising rapidity, and his pustular fingers closed over something that squeaked. A rat. Moly snatched its head off with a bite, and the unfortunate rodent ended up in the stomach of the Skaven in two bites. The Plague Monk swallowed loudly his snack. Another sensation tickled him, somewhere in his lower abdomen. He spread his knees, emptied his bladder, and felt the water warming between his legs. Then he slipped under the water level, in order to drink a few sips. He heard the distant bell of the Temple of the Horned Rat ring three times.

_Right, that's enough._

He opened his eyes, got up, his feet touched the bottom of the tank. The water levelled to his bellybutton. He dragged himself painfully to the steps that led to the copper chamber. He muttered, feeling the crumpled muscles of his malformed leg hurt. He came out of the water with the help of the rusty metal ramp, and breathed loudly once on dry ground.

The small hall had a stool, three hooks on which Skaven hung their clothes and a large polished metal plate serving as a mirror. Skaven could thus contemplate, and remember they wore on their bodies the mark of their Clan.

_How I need that, really!_ Moly raged in his heart.

Although this experience wasn't pleasant to him, he decided to look at his reflection, to see the evolution of the degeneration of his body. The more time passed, the more he was devastated. Instead of rejoicing, it made him bitter. Like all Skaven of Clan Pestilens, Moly wasn't really pretty to look at. Unlike the vast majority of his fellows Clan, he was well aware of it. Like his blood brothers, the Horned Rat had privileged him; he had given him an unusual fortitude. This was both a blessing and a curse. The decay gnawed him more slowly than others, and some of his younger comrades had already lost a finger or a few teeth while he was still almost full.

Perhaps this was the reason why Plague Deacon Soum seemed infatuated with him? Since the old Pestilens had taken the young cream Skaven cream as his apprentice, this latter had felt increasingly uncomfortable in his presence. Once, Soum had put his paw on his exposed backside. Moly had strongly protested, and the Deacon had never repeated such an act. However, the young Plague Monk was almost sure to cause disturbing moods in his senior. Whenever they were in the same room, Deacon never detached his only eye from him. One night, the Deacon had surprised in this hall as he was leaving the basin. The old Skaven had withdrawn and vaguely apologized, but Moly had suspected the Deacon to have observed him during his meditation.

His body wasn't the only to be stronger. His spirit sank less quickly and less deeply in limbo when he consumed one or the other Skaven drugs. But it reduced all the mitigating effect of the pain from his many wounds and infections, and his intellect was alert enough to remember how unenviable it was to be a Skaven of Clan Pestilens.

He sighed in resignation, and sat on the stool. Beside him, an old wicker basket contained dirty laundry. He picked up a towel with which he dried himself and then he tore it, and wrapped it around his ankle. He swaddled his feet, legs, and arms. It only remained to protect the head. He raised his eyes again to the mirror and craned his hand toward the basket, but stopped.

He was the only one to have seen his face uncovered for a long time, and this sad spectacle did not surprise much. But this morning, he realised something. He slowly stood up, approached the smooth and shiny surface. He stared intently at the reflection of his face, and slowly passed his hands on his cheeks to re-heighten them. He couldn't suppress an anxious shiver.

_I look-look like him!_

A rather large and flat nose, wide eyes, short but still prominent incisors, the bright colour of his fur... so many little things that reminded him of the small Psody, the youngest of the six Skaven sibling which he, Moly, was the fourth-born. He understood something had happened to him the day his brother Diassyon of Clan Skryre had announced his death. He shuddered as he realised.

A day didn't pass without he thought to his young brother. And every time it happened, his first reflex had been to quickly take a substance to divert his thoughts.

_Why? Why think to that White Skaven? He's dead-dead, anyway! The Horned Rat doesn't care about..._

Indeed, he wasn't less affected. And he wasn't the only one. Diassyon had clearly shown a reaction of grief, the day of his disappearance, as the eldest, Chitik the Stormvermin. The Pestilens remembered the facies of the brown Skaven when he announced in a broken voice: "Psody is dead!". This, as well as his own reaction. Diassyon had wanted to help him up, he had responded with a sharp reprimand.

Of course, he used to repulse the Skaven who were not of his clan. Each time, his congener had fled, leaving behind the smell of panic or contempt. However, that day, when Moly had barked on Diassyon the order not to approach him, he hadn't bolted, and it had not been fear the glands of the Skryre had exhaled. Instead, sorrow. Like if he had been more saddened by this reaction that really frightened. And he, Moly, felt a knot forming in the depths of his gut at this thought. Someway... he regretted having been violent towards his brother.

_No! There is no concept of whole brothers among Skaven!_ he thought firmly_. And then... and then... I didn't want to contaminate him! He has understood, ah!_

However, subsequently he had applied to soften his voice, to be less unpleasant and contemptuous towards the brown Skaven, it was a fact. Simply because he wanted to have a better contact with him. He racked his brains to find another explanation, just lost. And the worst was that over time, he finally _enjoyed_ it. He waited eagerly every day the moment he would find his brothers, and in their presence, his permanent injuries bothered him less, his guts seemed less knotted.

He decided to stop thinking about it, feeling that it would provoke a bad headache. Moreover, time was running, he had to join the others for the office to the Horned Rat. Slowly, methodically, he wrapped the mouldy gossamer around his head, hiding gradually his face to his own eyes. Then he hung his gesture.

He just realised something else that disgusted him at the highest point.

That day, someone hit him on the back of his head, stunned him, and took advantage of his unconsciousness to strip him of his monk frock. That unknown aggressor had been able to see his whole naked body! The Pestilens hissed angrily. His assailant had desecrated his privacy, neither more nor less, a notion that was much more pronounced for the Pestilens than other Skaven. But who did it? One of the marauders? A Skaven who wanted to humiliate him? Or had there been a more complex reason?

He thought for a few seconds, then shook his head.

_How important? Anyway, if I discover who did it, or if someone else tries without hiding from me..._

He passed his dark red robe and pulled the hood over his head before leaving the small anteroom.

He progressed painfully through the dark tunnels of the burrow, hoping that the effort would help him to stop thinking, without success. It was then that he saw a shape crouching between two rocks near the cliff. Another Plague Monk, older than he was, named Bagh, was evacuating the contents of his intestine on the ground. Moly gazed him silently, the other didn't seem offended at all. He rose once his business finished and went to the temple, in the same direction as the young cream Skaven. Moly was a sudden illumination. He asked:

- Hey, Bagh!

- What? the other muttered in a barely audible voice.

- You're on the service of Clan Pestilens, like me, aren't you?

- Yeah... so what?

Bagh picked up from one of the folds of his dress a handful of mushrooms he chewed noisily. Moly inspired and asked:

- If the Horned Rat had let you choose your Clan, which one would have you join?

Bagh was already completely stoned. He couldn't understand the question.

- What?

- Do you like to be a Pestilens? Wouldn't you prefer to be a Skryre or a Moulder? And to have not your guts rotten?

His interlocutor remained silent a few seconds, and then he laughed, before collapsing in the gutter. Moly shook his head, exasperated.

_They are all clogged, or what? Or is it me who has nothing to do with them!_

Yet the Horned Rat had decided that his destiny would be so, and had chosen him to be a Pestilens.

_No_, he thought suddenly. _This is not the Horned Rat who chose me... It's _Soum_! If I am... how I am, it is only because of _him!

Soum, so kind, so bland, so warm... in fact, it was him, and just him, the craftsman of his own misfortune. He had explained, it was he who had chosen him the day he and his five brothers were ejected from the womb of their progenitors. He was the first to be able to choose because of the dominance of Pestilens on Brissuc, he had before him four pups. Four! And his choice was on him. The result was this: it was this old vicious who condemned him to this miserable condition, and who was considering him as a toy for his libido.

Moly had always been a Pestilens, but for the first time, he thought the situation could have been different.

Diassyon could have been in my place! No, not him. Klur, maybe... Or the other twerp, what was his name? Skarr ... No, Skahl! And I would be in better health! If only...

Moly stopped, suddenly petrified. Again, he felt a long shudder shake his spine. He realised that thinking about his condition and its ramifications, he pledged on the slippery slope that led Psody to his straight loss.

Deep in the headquarters of the colony, in his laboratory, Grey Seer Vellux was consulting parchments on which were all inventories. The White Skaven nervously scratched one of his two twisted like a ram horns sniffing. His small sly eyes narrowed.

Three days earlier, a messenger of the Council of Thirteen had come with a small band of Clanrats. Accordance with the instructions sent by the Lords of Decay one moon earlier, the messenger had come to collect a consequent levy of slaves, Skaven and equipment to lead an attack on a large city of men-things. The Grey Seer had managed to sufficiently stimulate his underlings to ensure sufficient production and the messenger had left satisfied. The Clan Skryre Warlock Engineers had to rebuild war machines in a short time, and had not yet finished.

Rereading for the third time his notes, the Grey Seer thought that it might be an opportunity to make some changes. The colony of Brissuc was under the influence of Pestilens, Skaven of disease, who were the majority. Of all major Clans, Clan Skryre remained the most powerful of all the Under-Empire, and their representatives had always something to tinker their inventions. As for Clan Eshin assassins, its members had little need for a lot of resources, out poisons. But he had lately neglected the members of the fourth major Clan of the Sons of the Horned Rat.

_It is time to diversify-diversify. I'll pay them a visit._

He stood up, buttoned his grey sleeveless waistcoat, garment that he preferred to the usual grey robes of the Skaven Seers, straightened his cloak over his shoulders, took his walking stick, and left the office.

Again, it took time to reach the area where he wanted to go. He spent all his way to grumble against the incompetence of Skryre and their inability to provide him a vehicle. _Perhaps_ they _could craft me something?_ he thought as he arrived in front of the huge heavy black iron barred grille.

A scent of carrion rose to his head through his nostrils. Looking up, he saw five Skaven bodies nailed on top of the grid points. They were particularly unsavoury to contemplate, not only because they were already at an advanced stage of decomposition, but also because of their disturbing distortions. One had four legs, the second a second tail that came out of his neck, two long clawed arms gushed from the shoulder blades of the third one, the fourth had a second head embedded in his belly, and the fifth had his limbs and tail abnormally long and lean. Vellux heard a slight groan come from the mouth of one of the poor crucified. Another one moved slightly a leg. The Grey Seer spat.

_Still alive-alive! Fortunately, I'm not a member of this loony Clan!_

Clan Moulder. Mutators, this degenerate-minded Skaven, were obsessed with the shaping of flesh. Their art was to use warpstone to build as they wanted creatures whose eccentricity was limited only by the imagination of the creator. Thanks to the corrupting material so popular among ratmen, it was possible to modify the structure of an organic body, to incorporate other elements organic or not, the results were sometimes foolish, often dreadful, always disturbing. Once an experience successful, it was assigned to a Packmaster. Skaven of Clan Moulder who didn't create trained.

The failed experiments, intruders, the punished entrusted to Moulder ended their days exhibited on the entrance of their territory. That was an excellent warning. Anyone approaching the district of Clan Moulder knew what to expect. Needless to say all ratmen were terrified to the idea of finishing between the clutches of Clan Moulder. Become one of their abominations was a very unenviable fate.

Vellux spotted a rope to one of the support columns of the grid. He pulled it, and a strong and brief complaint echoed through the cave. Growls resounded, while a regular pounding announced the arrival of a particularly large creature. A moment later, the Grey Seer saw behind the bars the impressive and huge silhouette of a rat-ogre. An untrained eye would just see a very large Skaven, but Vellux knew this monster was different.

Rats-ogres were weapons of flesh and blood the most common and best known of Clan Moulder. Apart the Mutators, no one really knew how to conceive such aberrations. The most widespread theory was a mixture of ogre blood and warpstone in secret proportions injected into a Skaven alive. An experience with indefinable duration, whose provoked pain never failed to completely break the spirit of the unfortunate guinea pig. It was a considerable advantage; rats-ogres were very manoeuvrable. As they weren't attacked or weren't hungry, they generally remained in a daze making them extremely docile. Maybe they could even serve as pets for the men-things, according to some scholars Skaven.

However, when they feel attacked or if their stomach ordered them to go hunting, they became appalling killing machines. The Mutators concentrated their vile concoctions in the muscles of the upper limbs of their creatures. So their main strength was concentrated in their arms, their fists larger than a green-thing skull, and their claws sharp enough to shred the heaviest armour as easily as a piece of parchment.

This rat-ogre was nine feet high. It had a overdeveloped to the extreme musculature under a short fur, with arms bigger than tree trunks, streaked with veins as thick as steel cables, legs outstretched like powerful springs, ready to pounce on, long and shiny black claws as lengthy as daggers and sharper than a razor battery. Its head perched on his broad shoulders seemed almost too small, and the frightening size of its incisors was serving this impression. It stared fixedly Grey Seer Vellux, scratched his crotch and sniffed loudly twice, then firmly grasped the bars of the gate with its enormous paws, and moved it on its side.

Without a look for the creature, Vellux crossed the threshold of the Moulder den. Behind him, the rat-ogre closed the gate in a great clang. The White Skaven sank into a dark tunnel.

The more he progressed toward the centre of the sector, the more small revealing details accumulated. First, the coppery smell of blood. Rather a mixture of many bloods. The Horned Rat only knew how many different species were placed on Moulder operation tables since the foundation of Brissuc. Quickly, Vellux's ears were titillated by a wide variety of sounds. Cries, of course. Terror, suffering, anger echoed on the walls of the tunnel which divided into half a dozen galleries. He turned to go into the main gallery.

As he advanced, the cries became clearer. The Moulder were experimenting on Skaven, men-things, green-things and even half-things slaves. Other sounds mingled with the bellowing concert: bestial rumblings, rattling instruments of torture, gurgles, splashes and spurts of various body fluids. The scariest part was the laughter. Executioners, ignoble sadistic with brains clouded by vapours of warpstone, revelled in the pain of their victims. The more a Mutator Moulder was experienced, the less he was psychologically stable.

Vellux passed several small cells, each containing a subject of experimentation. He quickened his pace, without throwing any look. Not that the sad spectacle of Moulder experiences frightened him, he had seen worse, but he felt the transformation process complex enough not to waste time and energy in torture. In addition, the amusement of Mutators exasperated him.

Deep in the main tunnel, the rock walls themselves seemed to mutate gradually and reminded more the intestine of a gargantuan dimensions beast. The hose gave birth to a large circular cave lit by "flameflies" on the walls. These insects big as a Skaven paw had swollen abdomen than the rest of their body, and this enlarged part of their anatomy emetted a yellowish light.

It was precisely at the heart of this cavity, amid three bridges arranged in a triangle, Master Mutator Skilit was unleashing his creative fury. Thousands of victims had lost their reason or life between his expert hands. The White Skaven coughed to attract the attention of the local chief of Clan Moulder. Skilit turned, a sly smile stretched his long jaw, and he bowed.

- Hello, o zublime-zupreme Ruler of Decadenze!

Master Mutator Skilit was a blood and fresh meat thirsty brute. He was a big brown Skaven, his slender silhouette encased in a white robe stolen from a man-thing priestess, he wore front-back. The thinness of his arms, legs, neck and tail made him look even bigger he already was. Like all Corruptors who climbed in the hierarchy, he practiced his surgery on himself several times. His first "experiment" was to pull his tongue off to graft a wyvern's instead. It was longer, so he could deploy it as a whip, but the result was this perpetual lisp. Many Skaven laughed at this speech defect in his back. Only in his back, because nobody dared mock his abscess in front of him after what happened to the first Skaven who did.

He had also grafted an enforceable fifth finger on the edge of each hand, and two additional ears in his neck. He could enjoy twice the suffering of his drudges. Finally, he had applied to soften his muscles, bones and nervous system, to be more flexible than ordinary Skaven.

- What do I owe the privileze of your coming, o my mazter super-smart?

- Need more troops, Skilit! The last passage of the Council of Thirteen messenger has left us weak. The Moulder have effective-efficient weapons, right?

- Of courze, o indizpensable and unwavering Lord.

Vellux felt his forehead wrinkle in perplexity. He thought something that seemed to whisper him otherwise.

- How you can leave this stupid rat-ogre guarding the entrance?

- Tibwhâz? No reason to worry about, o zerenezt messenger of the Horned Rat. It is I who have created and tamed. I am very pleased of him.

- He could let enter-enter anyone!

- Forgive me for my arrogance, my whopping-loved great master but I azzure you otherwise!

- Explain!

- When he zees a Zkaven alone, he letz him because he knows that Zkaven alone doesn't represent a danzer-danzer. If he feels the zcent of aggression, then he does't open but growls to make him leave. If he zees zeveral Zkaven, he fetzes the Packmazter who will see himself who is coming.

- Yes, but if he sees a Skaven of Clan Eshin who would come to poison you? Or could poison him with a dart?

- Ha ha, he would smell poison, he has a very zarp-zarp nose. It would make him zcream!

- And if this Eshin has no poison? An Eshin assassin could enter and cut your throat?

- No! Tibwhâz would zee a Zkaven who doesn't emit the usual odour Skaven, zince Eshin cut-cut their muzk glands. It wouldn't be normal, also he would zcold. Zame thing if it'z a man-thing or a dwarf-thing. And if someone attacks him, he knows how to defend, and my Clanrats are alerted. I crafted him four moons ago, and he has never failed.

Vellux nodded slowly with a pensive frown. He really didn't like Moulder, and distrusted to the highest point the Master Mutator Skilit and his intellect even more twisted than his creations, but he could recognise a good move when he saw one. In retrospect, this rat-ogre looked very effective. And then he had to draw again the good graces of Clan Moulder he had abandoned for several moons now.

- This is encouraging.

- Oh, thank you, thank you! You are too good!

The Grey Seer handed the Mastor Mutator a scroll. The latter unrolled and examined.

- I want all this, and quickly. The colony needs.

- Hmm... nothing impozzible. Everything can be prepared by a couple of moons, no more.

- Good. I'll motivate you a bit, Master Mutator. When the temple bell ring four times, go to the breeder district, and choose one. You can stay with her to the six bell rings.

Skilit widened his huge eyes sparkling with a golden glare.

- Oh, what a joy! You truly are the incarnazion of the Horned Rat!

- Tell your followers if you provide the creatures in time, the top six will spend a night with one breeder. And you'll have three.

- Three! Three... breeders?

- Three nights. With as much as breeders you'll be able to seed.

Skilit bit his tail furiously while twisting his flesh under his blouse. But a red glow in the eye of the Grey Seer froze his enthusiasm. The White Skaven murmured softly:

- This is the carrot-carrot, Skilit. And here's the stick: if I don't have _all_ the creations on this list in two moons, I'll ask the Pestilens to reshape this sector in their own way-way.

The Master Mutator swallowed by understanding what that meant. The Plague Monks wouldn't even need to pass through the gate guarded by Tibwhâz to exterminate Moulder. Some bladders filled with contaminated meat judiciously placed through discreetly dug galleries or natural chimneys could quickly turn the whole area into a second Pestilens cesspool. And in the case of a clan purge ordered by the chief of the colony, useless to expect any support from any of the other Clans. In any case, actually.

Vellux relaxed a little.

- I know you can do it and so do you, too. Return to work, I'll tell the ratwife chieftain your coming.

Skilit allowed himself to breathe again. He raised his hand.

- Mazter, I have something to zhow you.

The Master Mutator took the Grey Seer to a large narrow staircase. They went to a huge low cave cut along its length by thick bars. It was the special cell where Moulder confining the prisoners who weren't Skaven. Necessary precaution, Skaven tended to kill non-Skaven and vice versa when they found themselves trapped in the same place.

Currently, the prisoners were men things. Vellux considered them a few moments.

- Men-things? And then?

- Have you zeen? They have mutazions!

Indeed, some men-things had especially developed fur, others had unusual malformations. Three eyes, a mouth on the back of the skull, very long clavicles...

- So what? the White Skaven growled. You've done better, right?

- Of courze, of courze, your magnifizence. But it iz not me who did all that! When my Clanrats brought these prisoners, they were like thiz!

The muzzle of the Grey Seer creased.

- Where did you find them?

- Two days of walking from Brissuc. It was a zmall men-things village. Not many-many, only a few packets of ten. They were all diztorted, like weird-things! Thiz iz not normal!

- Indeed. An entire village, you say?

- Yez-yez!

- Hmm... The men-things don't let live the mutants.

- They may have all been transferred at the zame time?

Vellux grumbled. He didn't like not being the first to be right.

- Not idiot.

- In your opinion, how did thiz happen?

The answer came by itself.

- A spell cast by a weird-thing magician. Aescos Karkadourian.

- The zorzerer who dares zallenge your authority on the rezion?

- Indeed.

Grey Seer Vellux put a hand on Skilit's shoulder.

- I'm really counting on you, Master Mutator. I _must_ destroy this mage, and you will help me! Remember: two moons, carrot, stick. Understood-understood?

The Master Mutator nodded affirmatively. Vellux left him without a word, and hurried out of the district Moulder.

- Go, go! Kill kill or die-die!

Fangleader Furghân, chief of the Stormvermin of the colony, remained behind, and watched three of his warriors at work. The three big Black Skaven fought with all their might, breathing, beating the air with their heavy weapons. They ran around a large and disturbing creature. The Tregara was a monumental scale insect – this one was eight feet high – looking like a praying mantis with a rock coloured and textured carapace. These creatures were a real pain for the Skaven, they flashed from the darkest corners when they ventured into uncharted galleries. Tregaras could cut to pieces a seasoned Clanrat in a few seconds.

Usually, the Stormvermin had a more solidarity personality than Skaven of other Clans, and were more likely to sympathize and cooperate. This wasn't the case of Furghân, unusually cowardly for a Black Skaven. So he contented to watch his warriors risk their lives without him. The ten slaves were all gathered in a corner, trembling in every limb. They had seen the tregara square two of their comrades in quick succession, and only the fear of receiving a severe beating from the Fangleader prevented them from simply scamper. The five Clanrats who oversaw them weren't more combative.

The three Stormvermin were sweating and panting, but didn't diminish their efforts. The oldest of them barely dodged the attack of the beast, which kept a tuft of black hair stuck in its grip. He breathed in anger, and gave a pike. He shouted over his shoulder:

- Rool!

The so-called Rool brandished a huge two-handed sword. He turned several times on himself while moving in the direction of the tregara. The shock stopped him. The insect uttered a shrill complaint, while one of its legs jumped and fell in the dust.

The old Black Skaven returned to attack, and planted his spear in the elytra of the beast. The steel tip remained stuck in its shell. It roared and reared. The Stormvermin didn't have the reflex to let it go, and found himself in front of the tregara. The monster whipped air with its tail, and stroke the Black Skaven in his ribs. He was thrown into the air and crashed against the stone.

- Briach! exclaimed the youngest of the three warriors.

But he had no time to worry more for his friend. The tregara attacked again. He jumped back, avoiding the dreaded claws of the creature by an inch. In the movement, he nearly dropped his heavy wooden mallet. The insect recoiled, bent its legs and jumped on Rool. It found itself on him, and leaned forward to bite. The Black Skaven grabbed its mandibles. He felt the terrible barbed protrusions lacerating him fingers, but adrenaline and rage musk eased the pain. He spread his hands with all his might, and soon characteristics crunches sounded. Another burst, and the tregara backed with another shrill whistle. Drops of yellowish fluid endeavoured the field of view of Rool.

With a challenging moo, Briach ran to the tregara, jumped and grabbed the shaft of his spear, before making a snap. He tore the elytra, which unbalanced the giant insect. Then the heavy wooden mallet of the third Stormvermin crashed its side. Rool took the opportunity to get quickly up and retrieve his sword.

Battered from all sides, the tregara wavered on his three remaining back legs, confused. Rool waved with a large reel of his weapon near the ground to destabilise and hit its abdomen with the flat of the blade in the same movement. The giant insect rolled onto its back with an indigenised squeal.

- Now, Chitik!

The young Black Skaven brandished over his head his huge hammer and struck the creature's head with a rabid shout. It burst out with a loud click. The legs of the tregara trembled nervously again, and then retreated into themselves.

Finally, calm returned to the cave. No one moved. Only panting breaths of three fighters were heard. Rool looked at the two other Black Skaven one after the other and burst into laughter before driving his sword deep into the inert body of the tregara. Briach laughed in turn, and stung the insect his spear. Finally, Chitik growled and roared with joy before flanking a big slap on the back of each of his two comrades.

Their victory was unquestionable, their joy legitimate.

It displeasured Furghân. He had seen and analysed the techniques of his three minions. They all made remarkable progress, and were emboldened. Their movements, their strength, their vivacity were strengthened, no doubt. The moment one of them would publicly challenge him to strike him down was perhaps not so far away. He resolved not to give them time to think. He stood up and barked:

- Let's go, you bunch of shabby-shabby!

And to support his words, he slammed his fist on the skull of one of the Clanrats. The slaves blenched, took their tools and returned quickly dig into the gallery where the tregara was come from. Briach and Roll joined Furghân and remained behind the sappers. Their presence alone was enough to motivate them. Chitik put his hammer, and crouched down to catch his breath. The quarrel in his lung that nearly killed him a few months earlier had decreased his endurance. He was still able to fight, but could no longer spend so long. He raised his hands to his buzzing temples. The blood pounding in his ears deafened him.

This detail was not lost for one of the Clanrats. Like all Skaven, he was jealous and envious, and seized the opportunity to harm someone higher up than him when it arose. Slowly and silently he drew his cutlass from its sheath and advanced on tiptoe. He raised his arm, focused on the space between the shoulder blades of the Black Skaven.

An explosion erupted and echoed under the vault. Chitik got up in a jump, grabbing his mallet in the movement. The Skaven fell on his feet. A scorch smoked on the back of his skull.

- Always watch-watch your back, my brother! a voice sneered.

The sound of footsteps on the cold ground approached, and soon the Stormvermin saw a brown Skaven coming, with a regular physical, but uncommon insurance. He was wearing a leather apron equipped with many pockets, a cap of tissue on his head, and his forehead was girded a headband to which three pairs of lenses of different sizes were set one behind the other by copper circles and rods. He firmly handed a long still smoking warpstone jezzail.

Chitik stared surprised.

- Diassyon!

- Fortunately, fortunately I followed you! He could have hurt you!

- How a Clanrat bastard can dare to do that?

The brown Skaven had a sorry smirk, shrugging.

- Well, you know them! All poor jealous-envious guys!

Chitik was furious. Without the help of Diassyon the Clanrat would have hurt him, maybe more. His pride suffered. The brown Skaven perceived the odour of nervousness emitted by his glands. He preferred to say nothing and avoid the risk of throwing oil on the fire. It was time, indeed, since Furghân was heavily stepping to the two brothers. He waved his hand and bellowed:

- Chitik! Come here-here! You've lazed enough!

The young Black Skaven completely rose with a bored sigh. The Fangleader approached the Warlock Engineer. He showed his teeth, and a trickle of saliva slipped from his lips to the ground.

- And you, Skryre, you have nothing to do here! Beat it!

- Sure? the brown Skaven asked with insolence. Master Warlock Engineer Mabrukk who sent me here. He wants me to make sure we can dig a tunnel for the warprail-warprail.

- I don't care about Mabrukk! I am the boss, here!

- And Mabrukk followed the orders of Grey Seer Vellux himself! Diassyon replied, without missing a beat. If he learns you prevented me from doing my work, Fangleader Furghân...

Furghân reached out to grasp the Skaven brown by the scruff of his neck, but he held his gesture. Chitik, meanwhile, brandished his hammer. As the Black Skaven chieftain noticed it, he exploded with rage.

- WERE YOU ABOUT TO HIT YOUR CHIEF, CHITIK?

Chitik didn't reply. But his determined eyes and stable posture left no room for doubt. Rool and Briach were also close, attentive to the slightest gesture. Furghân hesitated a moment, then he decided to give up. He spat on the ground and pointed the gallery.

- Enough, enough! Continue the work for the glory of the Horned Rat, and the colony!

For good measure, he slammed his fist on the back of a slave-worker who fell to his knees in yelping. The small Skaven issued a strong panic musk. The senses of the Fangleader found in panic. The Stormvermin Chief grabbed his scapegoat by his neck and threw him back. The slave squealed and squirmed in the dust. Furghân jumped on him and crushed him with his whole weight, and punched him, again and again. Blood spurted, bones creaked, then cries ceased, and finally the unfortunate stayed still.

The workers remained petrified at the sight, all stunned, trembling with terror. Furghân finally stopped his attacks. He considered the slurry which had been the skull of the ratman a minute earlier, then got up. When he saw that no one was digging, he stamped his foot on the ground just once. Immediately, all Skaven resumed their task harder, twice faster.


	10. The Siege

- _This is madness!_

_The White Skaven with horned temples blenched. The lizard-headed and skinned being in front of him was still, and its thin and dry lips didn't move, but its voice shouted directly into his mind, and translated a rage at the opposite of its nonchalant appearance._

- _I... I do not understand your reaction, the ratman stammered._

- _Really? However, everything is very clear! You used a powerful artefact belonging to our people, without the approval of our High Priest!_

_The features of the Skaven White hardened._

- _I used a simple piece of jewellery that was in your storage room. A simple golden globe! It allowed me to concentrate enough power to repel our enemies!_

- _You shouldn't put your wicked dirty hands on this globe! Moreover, what your protest friend has made of it... what a waste!_

_The cold-thing pointed to an object that the White Skaven was holding against his chest. It was a round mask, entirely composed of gold. Its whole surface was finely chopped with complex patterns. Its form was such that it could be worn on an elongated Skaven skull. Its interior was lined with leather and provided with a braided rope strap to hold it in place._

- _It is obvious that this object can serve no one but you! And you do not deserve it! Give it to me._

- _No way! This is a gift from Xarkish. You won't touch it!_

- _Who do you think you are, White Skaven?_

- _I am a resident of this city, ready to defend it! I defeated a Verminlord! One of the most dangerous creatures of the Skaven people!_

- _Don't be shy! Say "your" people._

- _You know very well I'm not like them! I was raised by yours, I speak your language, and I follow your culture! My only name has Slann resonance!_

_This time, the cold-thing didn't answer. The Skaven White ventured._

- _Without me, you would have suffered huge losses, and you know it. If I was out from a gelatinous egg stored in a pond, you would have made me a hero. But as I was born as Skaven, you can't bear it! I usually do my best to remain humble before Sotek, and I forget your customary bad faith. But this time... there is no more word to name such an ingratitude!_

- _You're becoming so insolent, Skaven._

- _And you're insulting me, priest Kauathi! Be sure Xarkish will be informed of your lack of reason!_

- _It doesn't change anything! Xarkish has not Kroak's authority, and you don't have your say! Now head down if you don't want us to take it off your shoulders!_

_The__ White Skaven opened his mouth, but no sound came out of his long teeth. He resigned himself to lower his arm. His interlocutor took the opportunity to whistle again:_

- _And give us__ this abjection! This is sacrilege!_

_With a__ furious gesture, the cold-thing took the golden mask from the hands of White Skaven. He didn't dare protest, knowing that it was useless. The reptilian creature opened a huge mouth, and its multicoloured collar deployed._

- _You're not__ our kind, Skaven! You'll never be a Slann! But you tend to forget it, and if we're not careful, you'll eventually attract misfortune. I'll personally ensure Kroak acts accordingly!_

_He turned__ with a firm, and walked away, still holding with his webbed hands the artefact. The White Skaven clenched his fists in rage._

Kroak is a poor terrified moron! If only he could see farther than his burst stomach!

_Once alone,__ he picked up out a cupboard of the small room a terracotta bottle, a ceramic bowl, and poured himself a shot of alcohol. The hot liquid burned his oesophagus, but relieved not the knot in his stomach. He heard again the voice of the cold-thing. With a yelp angry, he threw the bowl that crashed against a wall._

_The__ White Skaven raised his fist before his face, and looked at it. His tighten fingers were trembling. He murmured with a wheezing, charged in anger and contempt voice:_

- _Imbecile..._

A mouse was trotting through the gallery, looking for something to eat. It stopped, stood on its hind legs, scanned the darkness with its small black eyes, and sniffed. It smelled a both familiar and unknown odour. The characteristic scent of one of its male fellows. It went on its way, and stopped again by discerning a form that almost obstructed the tunnel. The smell emanated from this form. It approached, was struggling to understand things which seemed contradictory: the smell was that of a mouse, it distinguished a clear and silky coat like a mouse, but no mouse was so big!

The shape moved very slowly, and two pink shines appeared above its enormous muzzle. Interestingly, the mouse remained motionless, waiting for a reaction, ready to flee in case of danger.

Psody the White Skaven emerged from a sleep disturbed by strange dreams, as it was in recent months. He yawned, and opening his eyes wide, he noticed a little mouse a few feet from him, which looked at him with an intrigued posture. He murmured with a smile:

- Hi, you.

With great precautions, the young ratman searched into his haversack. He felt his fingers close on one of his last cookie. He reached it out as slowly as possible so as not to scare his little visitor and placed the sweetmeat on the dusty ground. The mouse stepped back and galloped back. Then when the White Skaven had moved back his arm, it approached. It walked to the cookie, and eventually nibbled it. Psody felt his smile growing, pleased to have made at least one happy being.

Things had really changed for the little ratman. A few months earlier, he was promised to a bright Grey Seer future in the colony of Brissuc. But since the visions began, everything went wrong. His master, Grey Seer Vellux, became increasingly suspicious vis-à-vis him, and finally ordered his execution. And his own blood brother, Klur of Clan Eshin, stabbed him in the back and left him for dead in a swamp.

His short life could have known an abrupt end without the providential intervention of a Human hermit who lived in the swamp. Old Katel had treated him with admirable dedication. Above all, she had prepared him to follow his own path. This way, he was sure, was going through a decisive meeting.

Gotrek Gurnisson and Felix Jaeger. Two names regularly income in horrible nightmares where he saw them bullying him, and where he felt a burning anger against them. Two things he wasn't able to explain. Other visions where he saw cold-things torture and exterminate Skaven also haunted his sleep. Maybe Jaeger, adventurer feared by the Sons of the Horned Rat, had an explanation?

Thus he had gone to Sub-Marienburg, the Skaven city built under the major port city of Humans. He presented himself under a false name at one of the local Grey Seers, and didn't stay long enough to evoke suspicion. It had taken him a week to find out where the both lads had been spotted for the last time. After quietly asked the spies of Clan Eshin, he had learned a lot about the duo.

The infamous Grey Seer Thanquol really had a grudge against them. Lately, he had circulated information as what he would give a large reward to anyone who could bring him alive the two Skaven slayers. Most Skaven didn't want to waste their time or their live chasing the chimera of the Grey Seer. But the leaders of the great cities wanted to know where they were to prepare to receive, if any. So they had been spotted in a province to the central lands of the Empire. Brief discrete visits to other smaller Skaven communities had eventually led him to Gottliebschloss.

It was time to hit the road. The daylight, visible through the hole he had dug in the morning to sleep, decreased gradually. The sun was setting. Psody looked back at the little mouse. It had finished his meal, and rubbed its head with both paws. He whispered:

- I gotta go. Wish me luck, okay?

Hearing his acute and slightly hoarse voice, the mouse stopped cleaning, didn't answer, but the little ratman thought see it wink at him. Then it spun and disappeared into a dark corner. Psody sighed, and crawled slowly toward the exit, pulling his bag with his tail. His long horns scraped the tunnel wall above him, dropping clods of earth on his head. A minute later, he was out.

He stood up, stretched, took a long breath. The sun was slowly descending towards the horizon, tinting the fog with copper light. The first stars appeared between the clouds. He adjusted his bag, looked around to find the right direction, and resumed his journey.

_Well! Let's face reality!_ he thought as he went down the hill where he had taken refuge.

But this research was not the only motivation of the small White Skaven.

The more time passed, the less he could bear solitude. Formerly guarantee his safety, it had become a burden that gripped his bowels as soon as he was awake. He had tasted the warmth of the affection of his benefactress, and away from her, felt his heart freeze every day. His quest for the truth about his visions was turning gradually into something else. Something that drove him to seek company. Company as warm and pleasant.

Of course, the Skaven of Sub-Marienburg had deference to him. By his White Skaven attributes, he had been quickly seen as a Grey Seer. However, during these few days, he had to work hard to continue to behave as a Skaven. This short stay had finally convinced him. For Skaven, all was nothing but fear, hypocrisy and wickedness. His status as Grey Seer had preserved him from many threats that permanently planed over the head of each ordinary Skaven. When he had left Sub-Marienburg, he had expected to be several leagues away to empty his heart, and had spent a whole hour crying. He had not been able to determine which had shocked him mostly: so much violence, or have been himself the architect of this violence during the first four years of his life.

And the following days were not very easy, either. Every time he had passed near a Human village, he couldn't help observing the people discreetly. Simple people, living a modest, rude, often tinged with the fear of foreigners or unexplained life, but when they met, with family or friends, they were happy. As he progressed, the young Skaven White was more and more envious. And, of course, he was careful not to appear to them, knowing they would quickly chase him with stones.

However, he had overcome all these emotions, and had redoubled speed to reach his destination as soon as possible. Now he was nearing his goal, and that restored his courage. Finally, as the sun ended down on a sea of mist, he saw in the distance the dark shape of a large building.

Gottliebschloss was a castle in the middle of a domain ruled by Lord Gottlieb. Built on the edge of a forest, this castle wasn't so big, but it looked solid. A circular tower stood in the centre of the ramparts, and Humans had dug deep and wide moat at the foot of the walls. The little ratman frowned when he saw a multitude of spots around the perimeter. He whistled in concern.

Gottliebschloss was surrounded by Skaven! A whole camp, consisted with animal skin tents hastily erected, in which the curved silhouettes of Clanrats were crawling. There were a large number, perhaps a hundred or two. Psody studied carefully their position. Presumably, they weren't ready to attack. They "settled" for besieging the Human fortress. Minimum risk, virtually guaranteed success as long as no external assistance intervene... this complicated things for the small White Skaven. How would he approach Gotrek and Felix?

He had already asked the question to himself, and had devised schemes as a discreetly provided letter, infiltration through the sewers, no matter what the genre, with a good presumption to be received with great suspicion. However, this state of siege radically changed things: as the Sons of the Horned Rat would be there, he would have no chance of being received friendly, or even listened to! He clenched his fists in frustration. Then concentrated, and gradually grasped the issues.

If he wanted to inspire confidence in Felix Jaeger, there was only one solution: convince him that he was different from other Skaven. And for that, he saw a way he judged acceptable. His pink eyes shone with determination when he thought:

_I will eliminate all of them!_

And he would without hesitation to achieve his purpose. It was no more shoot in its back a lenient Human or kill innocent injured people. For him, the Skaven had become sadistic and violent monsters, and in his youthful spirit, fighting against them was now a need to redeem his own sins.

He approached quietly, hiding in the bushes, behind trees. He didn't want to show himself immediately. Not that he feared getting caught by his peers – he was too far from Vellux and still unknown to be recognized by everyone. But he wanted to attract the least possible attention, and preferred to be sure to have a well constructed plan before contacting these Skaven. Looking more closely, he spotted many banners. That was to say, the sons of the Horned Rat called "banners" these morbid ornaments compounds with corpses nailed on planks arranged in a triangle.

_Hmm... it smells Clan Moulder!_

It was in the ways of this Clan to brandish such banners. And the presence of huge cages, many tens of feet long, designed for storage of monstrous creatures, confirmed his suspicions.

Psody decided to tour the site hoping to find a way to advance the situation to his advantage. He moved again, being careful to stay downwind. Skaven of Clan Moulder had sharper senses than those from other Clans, and he didn't want to be felt immediately. He distinguished two Stormvermin who were watching the space between two tents that served as entrance of the camp.

The sun was now lying. It was dusk. This made little difference to him, but he knew Humans would have to stay under the light of their torches if they wanted to have more chances of survival.

A reflex made the ear of the small White Skaven swing rearward. He turned and took a few steps in the direction where the noise came from. He walked away from the castle, to sink into the forest. He distinguished the runoff of a small river covered by the sounds of a violent struggle. Panting, hissing with rage, and the rustling blades digging into the flesh. Quickly, he jumped in a bush, and did move no more.

A group of humans was savagely fighting against a band of Skaven. As usual, the Skaven were twice as many and fought hard. Humans were demonstrating a formidable power. They wore no uniform, just leather clothes and a long coat. Weapons sparkled with each impact, blood flied in spurts, bones and cartilages cracked. Psody saw several bodies from both sides already lied on leaves.

Gradually, the gap between men and ratmen tightened. Once a Skaven fell under the blows of a Human, another tried to flee and found himself quickly caught and eliminated. Nevertheless, the sons of the Horned Rat struggled with the energy of despair. After a long minute, there remained only one Human, facing the biggest Skaven. A few passes later, the tip of the short sword of the man found his way into the sternum of the Clanrat. The Skaven fell on his knees, gurgling, spat a stream of blood, and squirmed nervously on the ground before dying.

The Human sighed in relief, mopped his forehead, and allowed himself a grin.

- Not born yet, the sewer rat that would stab Kleist!

Psody remained well hidden. It was obvious that this Human wouldn't be willing to be friendly. Moreover, it wouldn't stay long alive, either. The little ratman noticed one of the Skaven down, a Skryre Skirmisher, was not quite dead. He mobilised the little energy he had left to raise his warplock pistol and opened fire. The young White Skaven blenched when he heard the explosion. For a short moment, he relived the moment a crossbowman had nearly killed him that way. Without the providential intervention of Chitik, his elder black coated brother, he wouldn't have been there.

Kleist fell, nose in a molehill, and moved no more. He had not had time to regret the loss of his comrades.

The little ratman waited a few minutes to be sure not to be surprised by others attracted by the noise. Then he came out of his hiding place, cuing. He counted six Humans and twenty Skaven. Three against one, even more, for the Skaven, and yet the battle had ended in a draw. The men of the Empire had proved to be formidable warriors. The little ratman didn't touch anything. There was nothing to loot on Skaven, and Humans...

_If I__ ransack them, the Imperials will take me for a thief!_

A single object, however, caught his attention. One of the men wore around its neck a polished and carved horn with a cord. It was probably a way to signalise its presence in the Human way. He decided to collect it, thinking he could find any use to it, and stuffed it into his bag. That's when he heard something that made him straighter up. He walked away from the river to better perceive the flow of syllables that became increasingly clear. Yes, it was swearing in his native language.

- Come on, faster, good for nothing-nothing! Jourg must not wait for us!

Psody hid behind a bush and looked furtively. He saw three Skaven coming in his direction. Two servants were bent under a sedan chair, which on a thin White Skaven with a long black spotted snout was stamping.

This show gave an idea to the little ratman.

_They're waiting for a White Skaven!__ It is a way!_

He then called:

- Hey, brother Grey Seer!

The White Skaven pulled on a string wrapped around the neck of the front porter.

- Stop-stop!

The convoy stopped. The White Skaven rose and yelled:

- Who's there? Who spoke?

- It's me!

Psody raised his arms, and slowly left the bush. The White Skaven leaned toward him.

- Who are you?

- I am Psody, a chosen one of the Horned Rat, like you. And you?

- Boughree. What are you doing here?

- I'm here to assist Jourg!

- Oh yeah?

- Yes, he's the head of the camp further, isn't he?

Boughree had a skeptical grimace.

- You're talking about Jourg of Clan Skryre?

Psody was about to say yes, but he stopped just. What if this Grey Seer wanted to trick him? The young ratman thought at full speed.

_Well, if Jourg is the head, the banner should be visible everywhere. This is not this of the Clan Skryre I saw!_

- No, he's a member of Clan Moulder!

Boughree's face defused, he had a satisfied grin.

- That's right. Forgive this guile, but caution is precious-precious.

Psody smiled back, thinking he had beaten this Grey Seer at his own game. The latter asked:

- You're rather young for a Grey Seer.

- I tasted warpstone a few moons ago.

- Ah, I see. You're still a small young rat.

Boughree grimaced then a sort of condescending smile that made burn the nervous system of the small White Skaven. Indeed, all that conflicted with the values Katel taught him, and what was once annoying but bearable was no longer acceptable. He made a terrible effort to hide his indignation. The other didn't realise anything, and asked:

- Haven't you seen Clanrats in the corner?

- Yes, yes! Near the river, they were killed-killed by men-things.

Boughree trembled with rage.

- What? Oh, by the Horned Rat! It was my guard!

- Your guard?

- Take me to them, I'll explain.

The Grey Seer got down his chair. He slapped the neck of the head porter.

- Stay here, I won't be long.

The two White Skaven scampered to the river.

- You came to help Jourg, too?

- Yes, with my Clanrats. His Grey Seer... fell sick. I know Jourg. Friend-friend with him. I replace-replace his Grey Seer.

They quickly arrived on the scene of the massacre. Boughree stamped again.

- I don't believe it! Twenty Clanrats, and they're all dead!

- The Hum... the men-things have been lucky. They paid with their live.

- Yeah... Well, tell me if you see something interesting.

Boughree didn't want to touch the Human corpses. He gestured toward the bodies, inviting him to do the dirty work. A new proof of contempt. Psody thought that Grey Seer, not only was taking pleasure by humiliating him, could become a significant obstacle if not get rid very quickly at the first opportunity.

_Now, for example!_

He pretended to look at one of the bodies to examine. He fumbled in the clothing of the man with one hand and slowly drew his dagger on the other, taking care to stay backs. Once the weapon well in hand, he exclaimed:

- Oh! Come see-see!

Boughree quickened his pace to Psody.

- What, what?

He stopped behind the little ratman, and leaned forward to look over his shoulder. This latter got up in a jump, turned on his heel and in the same movement, firmly planted his dagger into the heart of his older. Boughree widened his eyes.

- W... why?

Psody grabbed the White Skaven by his collar, and whispered in a terrible voice:

- I _must_ know what the Horned Rat wants to tell me, even if I have to sacrifice-sacrifice all Skaven this camp to get there! And you're the first one!

He pulled his knife and plunged it into the whole chest while of the other White Skaven, again and again. Then he cut his throat, made him collapse with a flabby noise. He wiped the blade of his weapon on the clothes of his new victim, put it in his belt. He noticed the ring set with a pearl blood that the Grey Seer had around his finger. He withdrew it carefully before storing in his little bag. After that, he took the body to the river, and swung it into the water. The corpse of the White Skaven sank to the bottom.

Psody was shaking like a leaf. He didn't regret at all his gesture, but taking a life was no longer an act as innocuous for him. Then he saw a small leather purse fell from the body of Boughree. He opened it, and a very special smell jumped to his nose. The smell didn't let any room for doubt.

_Warpstone!_

Indeed, it was the small crystals emitting a soft greenish glow. The power, the energy of the Warp at hand, provided once put in the mouth. The corrupting might of Grey Seers, addiction and madness threatening with each shot, but the game was worth the candle if you agreed to take the risk.

Psody didn't hesitate long. In a gesture, he threw the small leather purse in the river. It disappeared in a moment, swept away by the current.

_I__ hope there won't be too many mutant fish, this year..._

Then he remembered the two porters. These two would also have to disappear. A Skaven alone and on foot could enter Jourg's place with one or two details to appear more credible.

He crouched near the Human who had the deepest and bloody wounds, and bit his lip.

_Sorry,__ Lady Katel..._

He laid full length on the body, and vigorously rubbed his clothes on injuries, brushing it with blood. He also smeared his hands, face and legs, and added a few spots of Skaven blood. Then he went back to the porters. It took him about ten seconds to destroy them both thanks to the magic of Warp. Finally, he ran towards the camp, ready to face Jourg of Clan Moulder.

The two Stormvermin were surprised to see this little bloodied and disheveled White Skaven coming from nowhere.

- Attention, attention! There's trouble! Take me to your leader, quickly!

Without a word, one of the two Black Skaven motioned Psody to follow him. Both crossed camp.

Psody had to admit, they were pretty well equipped. Not enough to withstand a whole army, but the people of Gottliebschloss were in trouble. The camp was under the responsibility of Clan Moulder, and it was obvious. The White Skaven passed a large cage ten feet high, in which were kept two huge rat-ogres. Further were ranged several wooden boxes tightly closed, and equipped with holes on their sides, which left escape little squeaks. Rats as big as dogs, ready to be released into the sewers of the castle.

Further, four dark haired, hooded Skaven, honing a collection of blades of all sizes. One of them had also replaced his incisors by knife blades. In front, three twisted-limbed Clan Skryre engineers tested their warpstone jezzails by exercising on a moving target, an unfortunate Skaven with a round painted on his short-haired chest. Psody and the Black Skaven crossed ten Clanrats doing back and forth running. In the corner of his eye, the young ratman distinguished a high dark shape. Looking more closely, he understood what it was.

_They have a Screaming Bell! Things are getting fun..._

The Screaming Bell was one of the worst Skaven inventions for war. This was a large chariot pulled and pushed by slaves. The upper part was consisted of a small wooden bell tower, topped by an impressive forged brass inlaid warpstone bell. The seat that was before the bell was occupied by a Grey Seer, who could then watch in height the progress of the battle, give instructions, use the magic of Warp on his enemies, and most importantly, ring the bell, and send vibrations powerful enough to excite the Skaven who became much more effective in combat and disrupt entire buildings.

Psody never had the opportunity to manoeuvre such a machine in real battle conditions, but Grey Seer Vellux taught him the basics and made him practice with the bell of Brissuc on abandoned buildings. The art of the ringer was to proper balance the hammer strikes, because excessive vibrations could cause discomfort for the Skaven, and destroy the Bell.

Finally, the Black Skaven Black growled:

- It's here.

They stopped before a large round tent about twenty feet in diameter, wide open. The White Skaven distinguished a thick dark figure within two shiny orange pearls glowing where the face was. A shrill voice squeaked:

- Well, well! A Grey Seer I don't know!

Psody saw out of the tent a brown Skaven with unusual characteristics for ratmen: he had particularly long and sharp incisors, shining eyes with a strange glow, many festering wounds and a straw-coloured second right arm, longer and more muscular pasted under his armpit, on his ribs.

- Mighty-smart chief, this Grey Seer has presented to us, explained the Black Skaven. I bring him to you under your orders.

- I see this is a Grey Seer, stupid-idiot! But this is not the one I expected. Where is Boughree? Who are you?

- I am Psody, son of the Horned Rat. Boughree died, with his escort! I saw everything. They were massacred by men-things! Boughree defended, but they got him. I finished the two survivors. Just before he died, Boughree consigned me his ring and asked me to get it to you.

Psody picked out his bag the ring, and handed it to Jourg. The latter seized it with his extra hand, and looked carefully.

- Hmm... it sounds true.

- Well, why would I lie to you? Or... would you dare doubt the word of a Grey Seer, Jourg of Clan Moulder? said the young ratman in a suave and disturbing voice.

He played his role so well that the Moulder finally accepted this story. He even retrieved the deference he had hitherto neglected. He knelt down and stammered:

- Never-ever, subtle and just messenger of our god. What can do your miserable-pathetic servant, o light illuminating our dark spirits?

Nor this obsequious compliment, nor seeing this repulsive character flattening before him pleased the small White Skaven. This didn't displease him either. In fact, it left him indifferent. Skaven sycophancy was now without effect on him. However, he was able to learn more about Gottliebschloss.

- Tell me the status of the men-things!

- They should not delay to give up! It's been almost two moons they are besieged! Tired-tired, they will run out of food-food.

- And you didn't have defeated them yet?

Jourg grimaced.

- Men-things rather stubborn. Refuse to surrender, and well armed! They have men-things jezzails! Clanrats approaching too much are killed by their bullets-bullets. I asked other reinforcements. Soon, soon we'll be enough to crush them!

- Perfect. I'll help you lead the attack.

- Wonderful-wonderful, o magnificence! With the support of a chosen one of the Horned Rat, we win for sure! I'm going to pitch a tent to yourself.

Psody slowly nodded with a smile he tried to show approvingly. In fact, he felt that the troubles were gathering. The more the Skaven would be numerous around Gottliebschloss, the more they would be difficult to dislodge. He had to act quickly!


	11. Intrusion in Gottlebschloss

Very slowly, Psody parted the skin sections of his tent and passed his muzzle out. The sun had not set yet. Jourg's Skaven were still asleep. As they didn't like to expose themselves to the light of day, when they were outside, they knew forget their endless disputes for rest all at the same time to be at their best once night. The small White Skaven was therefore the only one fully awake.

He completely extricated himself from his shelter, picked up his backpack, and considered the situation. The sun was shining in the blue sky, bleached only here and there with a few clouds. Looking towards the castle, he saw the silhouettes of Humans who were walking back and forth on circular watch paths. Above, a flock of birds riddled skies with moving at high speed black dots. Katel had explained him some of these feathered flying animals moved in large groups, giving this curious spectacle.

The young ratman progressed to tiptoe between tanned skin shelters. From time to time he stopped when he heard a snore come from a tent, or other noise. He took care to move in the wind, to avoid his odour flowing in the direction of Clan Moulder animal cages and excite them. Fortunately, nobody noticed him. Even the two Stormvermin at the entrance of the camp slept soundly under the large animal skin shelter stretched between a few stakes planted in the mud.

He walked away from the camp, still taking care not to attract attention. He went into the forest, and quickened his pace to get to the river. Once near the source of clear water, he placed his bag, made sure nobody was around, and then he took off his wool shirt. Finally, he went carefully into the water. The freshness of the wave under his hairless toes shiver. When he found himself immersed to the bellybutton, he plunged frankly his hands under the water, and tried somehow to clean dark traces of dried blood that spattered his fur.

While engaged in his ablutions, the little ratman watched relentlessly towards the camp. He feared being seen by one of the Skaven of Jourg. He didn't want to get caught naked. In normal times, it was already a rather embarrassing for a Skaven, but since Katel had made his education in the manner of Humans, he had held that nudity was closely related to privacy. Third point, a Skaven being wash in clean water was an unusual thing, and he preferred to avoid arousing suspicion.

Yet, he couldn't bear no more the smell of Human blood on him, nor see his beautiful white fur dirty. He thought about what Katel had told him, when she had promised he would usually stay clean. At the time, he had categorically rejected the idea. And now... he even regretted not having soap on hand! He smiled at the thought, while continuing its operation.

He spent long minutes to rub himself vigorously, then when he thought he did his best, came swiftly out the river, and shook. He opened his bag, took out the precious robe which the witch had given him. The shaped stylized horned rat head embroidery ensured his fortune from his god. He would need it.

He passed the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and returned to the camp. As he approached the camp, he was churning his brain at full speed. He had spent part of the day to think of ways to undermine the Skaven forces besieging Gottliebschloss. Waiting too long would be risking even more to see other Skaven get mended by Jourg, or being unmasked.

_I must act now-now!_

The best thing to do was to cause maximum chaos in the ranks of Jourg's warriors. Unforeseen events quickly panicked Skaven, no talent for improvisation. The options weren't lacking; between animal cages to open, Skryre warpstone jezzails powder to ignite, the Screaming Bell...

The Screaming Bell was probably the best option. It could overthrow the tents of the camp, drive the Skaven crazy, and alert Humans. If he decided to act as soon as possible, he could put the mess in the few next minutes. And that's what he would do.

Finally, he saw the war machine. The small wooden bell tower on wheels seemed to be waiting patiently for the time to sound its lethal chime. And, of course, nobody had cared to watch it. It was hilarious! Once daybreak, Skaven didn't take the risk of burning their eyes keeping them open under the sun, or even spend the day in the open air. Fear of daylight and open spaces were recurrent to the sons of the Horned Rat. Such negligence would cost these invaders dearly.

When he was near the bell, he noticed something that made him stretch his lips in a mischievous smile.

_These morons-morons are making it easier!_

Indeed, it was a new model of Screaming Bell; normally, a ringer had to hammer the bronze with his mallet, while the Grey Seer himself cast his incantations, and the young ratman had feared to have difficult to ring the bell, because of his rather limited physical strength. However, that weapon was equipped with a spring-loaded hammer, which would be tended thanks to a small wooden wheel, then released by pulling the lever.

_Even I should be able to use it! The Horned Rat is with me!_

Psody took a deep breath. He wanted to take the time to think about it one last time. He was well aware that his life was going to toggle for good if he executed his plan. It was still possible to waive, to find another Skaven colony far from Brissuc where his Grey Seer talents would be appreciated. If he helped Jourg to overthrow Lord Gottlieb, his place would be assured. Even if Vellux heard he was still alive, there would be always a way to escape or revenge. But he soon abandoned this idea.

_I won't spend my life wondering why these visions! And no Skaven can ever explain to me their meaning!_

And the memory of his short stay in Sub-Marienburg finished to convince him; his Skaven life was finally over. Resolved to face all the consequences, Psody climbed slowly on the war machine. He grabbed the wheel tightly, and twirled it. Gears rattled tooth by tooth, while the hammer fell slowly back, then everything stopped in a metal snap. The bell was ready to play its destructive melody. The White Skaven closed his eyes, murmured a short prayer to the attention of his tutelary deity, and put his hand on the lever handle. He took another deep breath, and pulled the handle firmly. The hammer struck the bell bronze, and a muffled roar thundered over the whole camp.

_No way back!_

Or time waste! Psody turned again the wheel like a madman, putting in place the hammer. The Screaming Bell rang a second time. The White Skaven heard the terrified cries of his fellows who were waking up. Rats-ogres roared in surprise in their cage. The vibrations made ruffle the young ratman fur, who felt the adrenaline whipping his nervous system. He knocked again on the bell. Someone shouted:

- Alert! Alert! Stop the bell!

Skaven came out of their tent, crazed with excitement under the influence of the war machine. Psody stretched his fingers to the Skirmishers gunpowder reserve, and brought forth a bolt. Barrels exploded, and flames flared up the darkness of the night, setting fire to clothes. The heat made shot some weapons already loaded. The White Skaven roared in joy still turning the wheel. The sinister ringing of the bell erupted for the fourth time.

Psody felt dizzy. Vibrations of the bell were acting on the Skaven body, electrifiing their nerves to make them hysterical, and he wasn't an exception. He felt an irresistible fury mounting, mounting in him, threatening to make him lose all logic in favour of a destructive madness. And yet, he had to keep control of himself, if he wanted to escape the Skaven who would try to annihilate him. He looked at the bell, and his eyes widened. The war weapon had accumulated too much power, and threatened to break up! Large wood struts were trembling, the fittings were cracking, spouting splinters.

_Time to go!_

He turned the wheel to put the hammer up one last time, then jumped to the ground. He found himself nose in the mud. He felt a sharp pain twisting his skull, and his body was taken by violent convulsions. He gathered his strength and jumped up, and ran as fast as he could zigzag. Skaven were too scared to pay attention to him, they fled in all directions, squealing in panic. When he was far enough away, Psody raised his hand and focused his mind on a small particular element: the chain that holded the hammer of the bell. He stretched his three fingers in a triangle, and let out another green bolt. The Warp energy broke one of the iron links. The hammer struck the bronze bell. The noise that came out the war machine sounded like a thunderclap. It was the last shock. The war machine couldn't contain such power, and collapsed in a frightful din of broken wood.

Psody nearly jumped in joy, but quickly recovered his spirits. He had to go immediately! He ran, ran to the edge of the camp. Before him, the dark shape of the castle appeared in the mist. He saw the lights of torches come and go on the walls. Humans were certainly wondering what was happening.

- And now, I call my own reinforcements! the White Skaven said.

He lifted to his mouth the horn he had picked up on one of the Imperialists, and inspired his lungs.

On the walkway of castle Gottliebschloss, the guards bustled. The first bell had panicked them, they saw it as a sign of attack from their enemies. Their captain, Gerd Rothemd, had quickly joined his men. He grabbed the first that passed by the shoulder.

- Soldier Müller, report!

- The Beastmen have started their war machine, captain!

- How much? Are they around the moat again?

- No, sir! We have not yet seen one of these nuisances!

- What?

- They're still in their camp, captain!

Rothemd carefully leaned his head between two slots.

- How strange... these creatures are awake at night, I expected they would attack later! The sun has set, but it's still dusk.

- And they don't surround the castle as yesterday, captain!

- Yeah... and listen to these cries. This is not rage, but fear. It's as if they were themselves taken by surprise.

- Captain! Look over there!

A second soldier pointed a plume of black smoke within cracked in a multitude of green sparks.

- It looks like a gunpowder fire!

- Are you sure, Schweigen? Müller asked. I've seen gunpowder fires, at Nuln academy. And none did such a light!

- We're dealing with Beast-men, Müller. They must use special powders.

- What? Müller worried. You mean they are preparing a curse with a cloud of black magic?

- Calm down, soldier Müller, ordered Rothmed. I don't think it is a curse. They have guns, remember? So they have ammunition. One way or another, their supply of powder caught fire.

Schweigen raised his arm, instructing the silence.

- What is it, soldier Schweigen? asked the captain.

- Captain, listen!

The three men made silence. They clearly heard over the screeching roar of panic and fire a clear, strong and perfectly recognisable sound.

- This is the signal of foresters!

- Foresters, sir?

- Yes, one of the groups who patrol the area! That's it! It's them!

- They did all this?

- Surely! They sabotaged the weapons of these mutant pigs, and now they need help!

- What do we do, Captain?

Rothemd looked at Müller, straight into his eyes.

- It's obvious, isn't it? We go rescue them!

- But... they are too many, sir!

- As they are sheltered in their camp, but now, this is the debacle! A good opportunity to strike downright and eliminate as much as possible of them! And you never abandon the citizens of the Empire when you can save them! Go!

The captain called:

- Sergeant Herzog! Sergeant! Come here!

A guard wearing ornate armour and a helmet with a feather appeared almost immediately in front of Rothemd.

- Aye, Captain!

- Sergeant Herzog, take command of the garrison and shoot any coming man-beast! I'm going to make an exit! Müller, Schweigen, come with me!

- Yes, sir! the two soldiers and the sergeant answered in unison.

Rothemd descended the stone steps of the wall at full speed, closely followed by the two men. Once in court, he hailed six men more.

- All on horse, we'll break their lines! Raise the portcullis, down the drawbridge!

A barely minute later the nine armed men crossed the ditch at full gallop, the hooves of their horses slamming on the rail wood. It took them not much longer to reach the first tents of their besiegers. Rothemd drew his sword, and mowed the head of one of the creatures on his way. His men emulated him. The Chaos offspring who were on their way, completely unprepared, didn't instinctively defend themselves. The explosion had rocked splinters and inflamed tissue in all directions, and the fire spread from one tent to another. Some Beast-men even had fur on fire, and groaned in pain without stop running.

Hidden in the tall grass away, Psody didn't miss anything of the show. The night was now completely dark. This didn't bother his senses, but he wondered how Humans fared on their side. Were warpstone powder fire lights sufficient?

He was pulled from his thoughts by sparkling shards over him. He blenched, and found himself on his back under the effect of surprise. Resting on his elbows, he craned his neck toward the sky. A familiar sensation ran through his spine while his whiskers felt cracklings. That was what he felt every time someone used magic in his presence.

_Oh ho! They have a mage-mage!_

A rain of silver arrows starting from a window of the great central tower confirmed this idea. Several Skaven were pierced by iridescent missiles, and died instantly. The young White Skaven shivered. He wished never have to face this mysterious arcanist.

The nine riders crossed the camp and fro, massacring the beast-men on their path. War horses were well trained and had the habit of running in the middle of the battlefield. However, something prompted the captain to slow down, then stop the run. In the middle of an open space between several tents, a huge moving and rumbling mass stamped, sweeping the air with his colossal fists.

- Here's a big one, soldiers! We must not let it escape and devour our villagers! Müller, Schweigen with me! Melk, take the other, and continue to fight them!

The so-called Melk took the lead of the half-dozen, and all resumed their ride bypassing the beast.

- Captain, my horse refuses to go to this thing! Schweigen cursed.

- Mine too! Müller complained.

Rothemd jumped down from his mount jumped.

- The smell of Chaos scares them! Dismount!

The three men quickly surrounded the creature, sword and shield raised, ready to send it in hell. The monster appeared to them more clearly, his huge carcass illuminated by the greenish flames. Rothemd gritted his teeth seeing that it was a huge beast-man, more than eight feet high. Its heavy body weighted nearly a thousand pounds. A thousand pounds of muscles as hard as stone that rolled under a clear skin partially covered with short brown fur. Its huge arms seemed powerful enough to fold in half the barrel of a cannon from the forges of Nuln, its shiny claws were long and sharp as knives. A long ringed tail whipped the air behind it, and a head reminding in a shocking way that of a large rat, provided with short moustache and long incisors, overcame its shoulders.

Müller and Schweigen were intimidated by the creature, but Rothemd, former patrolman in Drakwald forest, notoriously infested by mutants, had seen worse. He rushed forward and thrust his sword up to the hilt into the side of the massive beast. The beast-man roared in pain and anger toward the captain. It twirled its fists as massive as millstones to the Imperial. Rothemd jumped back just in time, and felt a slight touch on his side. Schweigen took advantage of the opening to swing his weapon from high to down. The tip of his sword opened a wound in the muscular buttock of the beast-man which blenched.

- Aim tendons! Rothemd ordered.

Müller understood what his superior meant. He skirted by the right the creature that was attacking Schweigen, bended his legs, ready to pounce at the right moment. Then he lunged forward with another sweep of his weapon. He severed the left inside knee of the beast. Blackish blood gushed from the wound. The monster bellowed again by making a sweeping motion with its clawed paw. The soldier was surprised by the speed of the attack, he had no time to avoid it. In a split second, his head was left torn from his neck.

Schweigen cried with anger seeing his fallen comrade, and threw himself upon the creature.

- GO BACK TO THE GODS OF CHAOS!

He struck in the right tibia of the giant beast-man, so hard that the cut it in half. This time, the thing squeaked in pain and fell to its knees. It had to lean on the floor with its paw to avoid completely losing balance. Its filthy head was just at the Human breast height. Rothemd grabbed his shield with both hands and sent with his whole forces on the giant rat facies of their opponent. The beast-man rolled over and went sprawling with outstretched arms on its back. Schweigen jumped with both feet on his stomach, and thrust his sword in its throat.

The huge creature shuddered, writhed, and then finally stopped moving. Rothemd firmly grasps his sword guard, leaned his foot on the chest of the beast, and drew it in a sharp blow from the still hot carcass.

- Well done, Schweigen! A little reckless, but efficient!

- Captain... Müller...

- We'll take care of him later. The fight is not over, soldier!

During this fierce battle, the six soldiers led by Melk also faced serious difficulties. The leader hit beat beast-men on his passage, when suddenly his horse fell forward with a desperate whinny. The Human had only reflex bounce on the side, and to get unsteadily on his feet. He thought his horse had stumbled, but when he saw that his followers fell the same way, he saw and understood better the situation. Something was crawling on the ground, as if the earth itself was alive. He then heard little squeaks in the din of battle, and distinguished ears, long claws, eyes, huge teeth. One of the soldiers got up, screaming with fright and pain, as he was covered with small creatures. Melk felt his eyes widen by seeing rats, big, a good foot long not counting tail, and driven by an insatiable appetite. The poor guy didn't stay up long. He fell in the moving mass of rabid rodents, and his cries ceased when he finally was eaten, like the horses. Melk up his sword, shouting:

- Back! Back!

The five still alive soldiers hastened to obey, and moved away from the flow of vermin as they could by pushing a few rats clinging to their clothes. In the confusion, Melk had lost sight of the huge beast-man. He frantically threw glances around and finally spotted the creature. It was berserk and hit everything within the reach of his giant hands. Smaller beast-men did their best to control it. One of them made a huge leap onto its shoulders, and thrust a long dagger through its neck. The giant beast-man fell to the ground.

Melk and his men formed a circle, sword and shield raised and ready to use. Whenever a beast-man approached the group consciously or not, it was immediately torn to pieces by one or other of the Imperialists. Unfortunately for Humans, some of these bipedal rats overcame their fear to face them. One of them clubbed several times the young soldier. Melk was protected by his shield, but the repeated assaults of the creature lowed his breath, and his arm began to hurt.

A leather whip wrapped around the neck of the guard near Melk. The Human dropped his weapon and pulled hard. Useless, the beast-man who held the whip backed arm with a yank, pulled his victim a few feet away, kneeling him, then jumped on his back before slashing him with claws and fangs. Melk brought his sword on the head of the monster with a hating howl.

An explosion lit up the night sky with a greenish fire. A beast-man powder keg had caught fire, throwing ash and breads material. Melk saw his other neighbour receive a smoking big as a hen's egg fragment on the scapula. The stone disintegrated the leather boiled in an instant, and when it came into contact with the skin care, the latter blenched with a cry of pain and wriggled in an unusual then aberrant way. A tentacle sprang with a sickening hiss from the injury, and lashed in force. One of the other still standing soldiers flung a pommel hit on the temple of the unfortunate man, and he stuck his sword in his chest when he was on the ground. When he saw Melk watching with horror and disgust, he barked:

- No other solution!

Melk didn't want to answer because any answer was useless. Anyway, he didn't had the opportunity, either. A blow on his head sent him rolling on the grass. He knew in an instant his life ended here, in this camp. In this melee, the slightest mistake was lethal. He raised his head, and his eyes met those of one of the creatures. It was a very large beast-man, its fur as black as the iciest ink. Melk growled seeing brandish its mace. He was still stunned, and knew he wouldn't have the reflex to dodge. His two comrades were still fighting, struggling with other Chaos spawns, and couldn't help him. He closed his eyes and waited for death. But death didn't come take him.

The black furred beast-man fell on its belly. Melk spotted a smoking hole in his homespun shirt, right in the middle of its back. He stood up, surprised to be alive, sought his rescuer angel, without finding it.

_Diassyon was right, it's really easy-easy!_ Psody thought by throwing the warplock jezzail. He scanned the camp in a glance. His plan had succeeded better than he had hoped. It was total panic in the Skaven. They ran in all directions uttering shrill cries, and those who didn't fall under the sword of armed men were burned by the flames that had spread in streaks across the camp. And the unwary coming towards Gottliebschloss died, shot by Humans guns or blasted by magic arrows. Living Skaven inside the camp became scarce again and again.

- Soldier Melk!

Melk straightened, took back full possession of his faculties when he heard the voice of his captain. Rothemd and Schweigen stood before him on horseback. The captain had attached the frame of Müller to his own horse.

- Captain... we've lost.

- No, soldier, get a grip! We won!

Amazed, Melk looked around. It was true. His mind had been plunged into such a mess that he did not realise all was over. They were only five survivors out of nine, but they managed to expel the beast-men.

- Come on, do a final round to find Human survivors. You three, go back to the castle, and go see the prior!

- Uh... right, sir.

Psody could not help but be in awe. These humans had shown a really unusual strength, on foot, on horse, with sword and gun. Well equipped, well trained, they were more formidable even than the small band of Kleist.

_Indeed-indeed, I had never seen real Human soldiers fight before tonight!_

The little White Skaven suddenly felt a nervous grip wrap around his torso and pull him back, as a hand gripped his horns to force him to look up at the sky. A blade bit the flesh of his throat.

- You liar-liar! I knew it!

The glands of the young ratman spread a scared musk when he recognised Jourg's voice. Taken by the excitement of the fight, he didn't feel him come. And the Chief Moulder had taken advantage of his three arms to subdue him.

- Your time has come, you damn traitor! I bet you killed Boughree! He was my friend, you'll regret for having done that! But I shall avenge him, and when I report your head to our lord, he'll reward me, and I'll be permitted to shag my favourite breeder during a whole week, and I...

The White Skaven raised sharply his tail, trying to whip his attacker in his face. The Moulder wasn't hit, but he released his grip and lifted one of his rights forearms by reflex. Psody turned, and in the same movement drew his pistol from his belt and opened fire. The bullet burst the chest of his opponent. He had a grimace of pain, and rolled onto his back. The White Skaven spat on the jerking body of Jourg of Clan Moulder and simply said, shrugging his shoulders:

- When you have to stab, stab! Don't talk!

Explosions thundered intermittently, bursting the dark night with waves of shimmering particles, and the last few burning ratmen were fleeing. From the wall, the musketeers saw the first three soldiers come back. They were immediately taken to the dormitory where their wounds were treated.

Finally, the blows stopped, the screams ceased, calm fell on the scene, broken only by the crackling of the flames that lit the mist. The grass was still wet from the last rain, the wind wasn't blowing, and fire would probably extinguish itself quickly. Sergeant Herzog sighed, and heard his men rejoicing. Several victorious exclamations resounded through the court. After agonizing weeks during all of them had the nerves because of these monsters, the suffering was finally over, and the Empire had won.

- Sergeant Herzog? one of the guards asked.

- Yeah, Kerner?

- It's all over, you think?

- I don't know, soldier! Maybe these pests are going to play a dirty trick!

- The captain is back, sergeant! noticed another soldier.

All saw the captain Rothemd board under the harrow on horseback, accompanied by one of his subordinates and two steeds. His voice sounded to walk.

- Lower the portcullis, raise the drawbridge!

Herzog gave instructions, and access to the castle was closed again.

The sergeant gave another sigh, deeper than the last. Four soldiers and six horses had died under the claws and fangs of these abominations. It was sad for them and their families, but at least they had succeeded. Herzog saw the captain into the dungeon, presumably to report to lord Gottlieb.

- Sergeant, is everything okay? Kerner worried again.

- Huh? Oh, yeah... Don't worry.

Indeed, how far were the days when Herzog and his brothers played war with wooden swords, as they were children. How far were they from reality, too. The war had absolutely nothing glorious, and even the fact to defend against invaders successfully didn't rejoice him. Herzog decided to stop thinking about it. After all, they had not suffered so many losses that their enemies, and with time, the pain would fade.

_While they were there, they have not attacked isolated villages. And now they're gone, we finally can breathe._

All the inhabitants of the castle gradually withdrew to rest, apart sergeant Herzog and some volunteers remaining on the walkway. They relaxed, convinced that the danger had passed, when suddenly they heard a shrill voice.

- Hey! Ahoy! Soldiers of the Empire!

Schweigen, back to his post, pointed to something.

- Sergeant, look!

- What, soldier? Oh! By Sigmar's hammer...

On the road leading to the drawbridge, there was a small figure which advanced alone. The sergeant recognised a beast-man, with white fur, a rat head, and two long horns. The spawn of Chaos moved slowly, and held with both hands a spear on which it had attached a white cloth, waving it slowly. It cried again, talking in reikspiel:

- I surrender! I am your prisoner!

The sergeant firmly grasped his rifle and shouted:

- You giant rat freak! Go away, or I kill you!

But the beast-man stopped at the ditch, and didn't move more. The sergeant pulled the trigger of the gun, and shot. The bullet ricocheted to within one foot of the beast-man. It blenched, but didn't retreat. It insisted:

- Please, I beg you! All I want is to talk to Master Felix Jaeger! I know he's with you!

- What do you want to master Jaeger, you stinking vermin?

- I want to discuss with him as an equal! I must see him, this is very important!

Psody cursed the Humans as he heard them laugh. But he stood and remained motionless, clinging to his flag. What should he do? Kneel? Good idea, that's what he did. Drop the spear and reach lift his arms? Too risky, they might believe he would cast a spell. He held more firmly his flag, while still on his knee.

On the wall, one of the soldiers asked:

- I put it down, sergeant?

- Wait, that's weird. This is not the first time I face these cursed offspring of Chaos, and I never saw them go with a white flag.

- What's going on? shouted a loud voice.

The soldiers immediately stood to attention, while lord Gottlieb approached. Wilhelm Gottlieb was a big man, six feet high. Encased in a heavy plate armour to his measures, ihe had broad shoulders, and his chest was massive, as what he liked to combine exercise and good food. His stern face was hidden by an impressive chestnut beard. His bushy eyebrows almost crossed above the root of his bulbous nose, and his hair reminded the mane of a lion of South Lands.

- So, sergeant Herzog? Why did you shoot?

- My lord, there is a beast-man in the front of the castle.

- Well, what are you waiting for? Get rid of it!

- Indeed, it comes to give its surrender, my lord.

- Huh?

- I wanted it to leave, but it insists.

Lord Gottlieb looked over the wall, and saw in turn the white ratman, still standing with its white flag.

- It says it wants to meet sir Jaeger, my lord, specified sergeant Herzog.

- It speaks our language?

- He wants to meet me?

Another Human had followed the lord. He was a great man, with blond hair matted in filthy locks. He was well dressed, and had a certain presence. A sense of calm, self-control emanated from him, an aura forged by years of adventures, battles and tragedies. His serious face was clean-shaved. He wore a sword at his side with finely crafted scabbard and pommel, and a red wool cape floated on his shoulders.

- A friend of yours, sir Jaeger? inquired the lord Gottlieb.

Felix Jaeger scratched his head. He cast a quick glance down over the slot, then returned to lord Gottlieb.

- This is not a beast-man, but a Skaven.

- What's the difference?

- This is a Chaos offspring, but with a way of life different from those of the Drakwald beast-men.

The eyes of the Lord Gottlieb undertook suspicions.

- What? Jaeger, don't tell me you have hidden us information!

- It wouldn't have made a big difference, my lord. And when I have explained you what I know about them, you will understand why.

- I'm curious to hear you. But for now, we must take care of that! We must eliminate it!

- Wait, my lord. I've already met lots of Skaven. This one is not ordinary, it is a White Skaven. Believe me, they are the smartest, the most vicious and dangerous.

- So, it must not be let live longer!

- My lord, an instant! It's strange, I've never seen one of these creatures behave so. He wants to talk to me, you say? he asked the sergeant.

- That's what it said, sir Jaeger.

- This is probably a ruse, Gottlieb grumbled.

- Possible.

- If I may, sir... dared Kerner.

The big man swung to the guard.

- So what? Speak, soldier!

- Have you seen what it wears around its neck?

Gottlieb and Jaeger looked again quickly at the White Skaven.

- Looks like a ranger horn?

- Yes, my lord, replied Schweigen. It is as he heard its signal that captain Rothemd decided to make a breakthrough.

- But Rothemd told me he saw no Human in the camp! Nothing but these… "Skaven" scavengers fleeing!

- You think this White Skaven would have called for help with this horn? Jaeger asked incredulously.

- That seems rather unusual! exclaimed the lord. But maybe it wanted to get our men into a trap?

- While there was already trouble in the camp?

- Yes, it began with the bell, sir, the sergeant recalled. Someone also destroyed their bell. What if it was it?

- So it allowed us to rout them, realised Jaeger.

- And what if not?

- Well, maybe he knows something? Anyway, if done the right way, we could make him talk? This is what he wants!

- Hmm... I really hesitate to take the risk of letting this little horror in.

- Take precautions, sir! Ask Kaufman!

- So what do we decide, my lord? the sergeant asked.

Gottlieb's ruddy face passed through several expressions.

Psody was sweating under the effect of the flame heat, and due to nervousness. Humans had opened fire on him once, they could do it again. He saw movement above his head, and realised that there was now a dozen muskets pointed towards him. He then heard the characteristic sound of heavy chains moving, while the drawbridge was lowered slowly to a stop in a crash. The portcullis rose.

Through the door of the castle, the White Skaven distinguished ten soldiers armed with halberds advancing in his direction. They were led by two Humans: a large man in armour, with two threatening big eyes over a hirsute beard, and a shorter man, who wore a gold tissue with leather reinforcements, his face hidden by a copper mask showed nothing but his mouth and chin. The Human in armour ordered:

- You, above, if it does a sudden move, you shoot! You, the mouse, drop this flag on the ground slowly. Very slowly.

The masked man was surely the magician who had undermined the Skaven with his powers. The little ratman felt the characteristic musk of fear exhale from his glands, and saw that he trembled all over his body. He lowered his flag and dropped the most slowly as he could.

_Maybe it wasn't__ such a good idea!_

- Good! said the chief. Now, put your hands on your head and do not move!

Again, Psody obeyed without daring to move superfluous. He saw the Human in armour whisper a few words to the attention of the Human in dress. The latter began to articulate some syllables, raised his hand, and a ray of light burst from between his fingers, reached the White Skaven directly to the head, which knocked him down, and all became dark.


	12. The Meeting

Chapter 12: The Meeting

_The procession moved slowly on the winding path towards the stone ziggurat. Tens of Skaven, chained one after the other, were brought to the foot of the grand staircase by huge creatures as large as trolls, but resembling humanoid reptiles. The entire length of the stairs was lined with hundreds of cool-things. They wore headdresses adorned with variegated colours feathers, waving flags, blowing in carved horns or beat on drums._

_A smaller cool-thing was waiting on the third step. It wore shiny trinkets around its neck, wrists and ankles, and a golden crown. When the prisoners found themselves in front of it, it turned to the top of the pyramid, and began to climb the stairs. Other cold-things, whose head was covered by a helmet carved in a larger reptile skull, led the march of prisoners._

_Ten minutes later, the first Skaven arrived at the top. In the middle of the roof, there was a huge circular stone slab, which should weigh several tons, with two rings on opposite edges. On the other side of the slab, a high altar was built, and behind a grand staircase topped by a large stone throne could be seen. A strange figure was installed there. It was a huge toad, with stunted arms and legs, wearing a cap adorned with feathers and holding a sceptre in its left hand. The being raised its sceptre slowly._

_Two of his giant fellows slipped a long wooden bar through the two stone rings that overhung the heavy slab. They were thus able to lift and place it a few steps away, revealing a large pit twenty feet in diameter. Skaven quickly found themselves at the edge of the pit. The first cried in despair, and tried to flee, but they were immediately caught by the helmeted cold-things and carried to the hole before being thrown into._

_All Skaven ended at the bottom of the pit. When the last had rejoined his fellows, the two big cold-things plugged the opening with the slab. The cold-things crowd chanted in a monotone voice, while the toad-man slowly raised its arm._

_Without a transition, Psody found himself in the middle of the scene. He was on the roof of the building, near the altar. Around the continent seemed to have disappeared, there was more than a maelstrom of colours. No more jungle, no more trail, nobody either. Nothing. Completely naked, he was shivering in cold... and anxiety. Indeed, around the ziggurat, twelve huge silhouettes appeared. Shadows larger than a dungeon, hooded, one adorned with horns like those of Grey Seers. Twelve people, including two letting an empty space between them, as if waiting for a thirteenth entity. Impossible to distinguish their features, only their eyes appeared. Psody felt his stomach knot when he understood who he was dealing with._

The Council of Thirteen!

_Tremendously loud voices thundered through the skies._

- _So, Psody… you're hesitating?_

- _You're contesting the authority of your elder?_

- _You don't know what to do?_

_The young White Skaven turned to one of the Lords of Decay, then swung to another._

- _I... I don't understand!_

- _You have survived many things!_

- _The Horned Rat watches over you_

- _Or you have insolent luck._

- _What a shame you don't know fully exploit it._

- _Shall we let you frolicking everywhere?_

- _What should think our god by seeing you acting as you do?_

_Psody panicked:_

- _I never wanted to do anything else than serve the Horned Rat, I swear!_

- _Then why all these questions?_

- _Why all these doubts?_

- _Why all these judgements?_

_The poor young ratman jerked each invective of one or another of the silhouettes. The voices became more aggressive, more impatient, more threatening. Suddenly, a familiar voice banged just in his ear._

- _You have too much different ideas! We don't like it!_

_Something struck him in his back, smashing him to the stone floor. Then he felt a meteoric tear on the top of his head. He cried out in pain, then in horror of seeing his horns on the ground before him, their lower end bloody and covered with strips of flesh. He put his hands on top of his head, and when he brought them before his eyes, he saw that they were covered with blood._

_An irresistible force took him by the armpits, lifted and swung him. Psody shivered more recognising his master. Grey Seer Vellux was before him, but he looked different. He wasn't more a great and beautiful White Skaven which the young ratman dreamed to be like. His arms had become gnarled, with crooked fingers, long dirty nails. His face was covered with warts, his features grossly hardened, his teeth damaged, and his red eyes were bloodshot and deep in their sockets. Despite the suffering that twisted his skull, Psody wished to speak._

- _Master... he murmured, bowing his head._

- _I have no more servant!_

_Vellux grabbed the young White Skaven by his throat and lifted effortlessly twenty inches from the ground with a single hand._

- _You are no longer useful to me, however, your mere presence is an offence!_

- _But... I was born to serve you!_

- _What you say! You ruined everything!_

_Vellux turned back to the sacrificial pit, open again, without releasing the unfortunate young ratman. He held him suspended above the wide open aperture. Psody sobbed in terror._

- _Why, master? Why?_

- _Because the Horned Rat has chosen _you_!_

_And in a powerful gesture, Vellux swung Psody back, hurling it into the pit. The unfortunate young ratman fell down, down into depths that seemed endless, screaming with all his might._

Psody awoke with a start, shivering with sweat, his nostrils acidified by the terror his musk glands exhaled. A terrible tugging circled his head, as if he had been wearing a juicer. He couldn't see anything, his vision was obscured by an opaque matter covering his eyes. However, he could feel something was hugging his wrists and lower legs. There was also a gentle stream of air that made him shiver. He tried to articulate a word, but his jaw was obstructed. He heard a voice say in reikspiel:

- Oh, he's waking up. Go get the others!

Some footsteps went away. The voice whispered near him:

- Don't move. Don't speak. Be nice, or you're dead.

He obeyed, too scared to do anything else. Several pairs of boots slammed on the pavement, then the sound of a heavy door opening sounded. Finally, the White Skaven heard another voice, more assured, more mature, ordered:

- Remove his blindfold.

Someone ripped the leather band knotted around his head. Psody quickly considered his situation, which was not brilliant, far of it. He had been stripped naked, his arms and ankle were tied outstretched with solid bracelets on an icy stone wall, and a gag consisted of a wooden ball attached to chains kept his mouth in a position too uncomfortable for him to utter a word. He looked up and saw the Human who was facing him.

That was him. The man he had seen again and again in his delusions. He was just like in his nightmares: big, shaved face with a blond hair falling over his shoulders. He wore a red cape over his mesh vest and leather boots went back on his striped trousers. The little ratman swallowed. This Human was both frightening and fascinating to watch. He had an expression loaded with the experience of many difficult ordeals. Weariness, disillusionment marked the still apparent youth of his features. However, his eyes were even more intense.

- I'm Felix Jaeger. I've heard you want to see me?

The White Skaven tried to articulate some syllables without success. The Human approached him and cocked his head to his ear.

- I'll take it off, but first I want you to be well aware of this: I have good reasons to distrust you. I dealt with Skaven more often than I would have liked. Also, understand you have an incredible fortune, because usually, Humans impale on sight your kind.

Fear tugged increasingly the intestines of the young ratman. Jaeger seemed to realise, because his voice was a little less sharp.

- Put yourself in my place: these Skaven were harassing us for weeks. And then someone creates confusion in their ranks, which allows us to hunt them. First, we wanted to really thank that "someone", or we saw _you_. A Skaven, a Grey Seer moreover. Who comes with a white flag to surrender and talk to me! Everyone here thinks it's a trap. But I am open-minded, and I accept to talk with a person that I imagine intelligent. I want you to explain why you did all this for me. But beware! From the moment you utter a word in a language other than reikspiel, these soldiers have orders to execute you immediately. We know that the Grey Seers can use magic, and we won't take any risk letting you unleash a curse on anyone in this castle. You understand?

He didn't seem to be joking, no more than the two guards brandishing their spear to his chest. The White Skaven felt waves of stale sweat flowing down his wide eyes. He nodded. Jaeger reached out and opened the small steel loop before pulling the gag with a jerk. Psody coughed.

- Well, to begin with, who are you?

- I... I'm Psody.

- Okay... You are the one who have caused panic among the Skaven?

- Yes... I rang the bell, burned the barrels of powder and shot their leader.

- Nice performance for a small White Skaven! And the horn, that was you, too?

- I found it... on the leader of a group of Humans in the forest. Who were they?

- A band of rangers, there are a few around.

- Well, manling, you've began to have fun without me?

A Dwarf entered the cell. He was just a little bigger than Psody, but at least three times wider shoulders. Under the tattooed skin of his bare chest rolled impressive muscles. His face was buried under a heavy beard, and his head was shaved, except for the crest erected and dyed with animal grease. A gold chain connected his nose to his left ear. The Skaven immediately recognised this menacing face, whose left eye was covered by a bandage.

- Sir... Gurnisson? murmured the young Psody.

- Gotrek, my friend! It seems that your reputation has preceded you!

- Not a surprise. What is surprising me is this rat is not already scared to death.

The poor ratman then saw the axe whose blade was decorated with engraved runes, and became more afraid. Gotrek noticed it, waved his weapon before his nose, laughing, and even applied the edge between his two nostrils. The pink wide with terror eyes of the Skaven White squinted to the sharp steel.

- I usually don't kill people who are unable to defend themselves, it's not funny, nor honourable. But give me one reason to remind me that I don't have no more honour to lose, just one...

Psody felt the musk of panic emitted by his glands increase its intensity, like a poison imprisoning his heart. Jaeger put a hand on his friend's shoulder, asking him back. Then he crouched in front of the prisoner, placing himself at his height.

- Very well, Psody. You have taken big risks to come see me. First, you fought your own, and now you come to my hosts, for, quote, "discuss as an equal" with me? Well, here I am! Please, speak up! I'm listening...

The White Skaven tried to find the words, to be able to ask the right questions, but he realised a terrible complication: nothing came. He had not the slightest idea what he would say. The fear transformed gradually into disappointment. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. These both mixed feelings did shed a few bitter tears on his cheeks, which intrigued Jaeger.

- Indeed, if I expected this...

- He's mocking us, manling!

Gotrek thumped a violent backhand slap to the young ratman who winced in pain, but didn't protest.

- Gotrek, calm down!

Jaeger passed his hand under the chin of the prisoner, raising his head.

- What's happening to you, my young friend?

- This is not your friend, manling! Gotrek barked.

- Gotrek, I beg you! So, Psody? Why put yourself in that state? I assure you, as long as it is friendly, you can talk to me without fear. Why have you done all of this for me? It interests me!

- I... I do not know, sir Jaeger. A part of me is screaming, orders me to cut you in pieces, you and sir Gurnisson. A part of me hates you, wants your long and painful death more than anything. But me... I don't know you. I've only seen you in visions.

- You saw me in visions? And what I was doing?

- You laughed at me, or you attacked me, or my fellow.

- And you came to... "conjure the curse" by killing me first?

- No! That's what I don't understand. I feel that this is not me where this anger comes from. I have nothing against you, I would say, in a sense, I admire you. You are an exceptional Human, and you, sir Gurnisson, you honour the legendary tenacity of your people. Both of you are known as fierce Skaven slayers-slayers. So I had the idea to find you to tell you about my visions, and my differences. I thought seeing you would help me to understand... but I see nothing. And I don't understand. I don't know what to do.

Jaeger turned to his brother in arms.

- What do you think about it, Gotrek?

- Well, this is the first Skaven I see behave like that.

- I'm almost tempted to believe him. I said "almost", specified the Human.

He thought a moment, then asked:

- Could you describe one of these visions?

- Uh... I think so. There is... a small castle. Humans are being attacked by Skaven. The assault is very violent. And in the sky, I can see... a flying ship. A kind of ship that doesn't float on water, but that is suspended in the air with a huge air balloon hung over. And I see my hands... well, I'm not sure whether my own hands. I am me, and I am not me. I see Skaven fingers with white fur, long nails, and I feel the energy of the warpstone invading my body. But then I heard a voice say in my language "this thing is mine!" And it is not my voice. I call on the powers of the Warp, and a huge green hand energy is poised to capture the flying ship. However, something distracts me, I feel the energy dissipated, and I fall to the ground.

Psody remained silent. The two friends were very surprised. Gotrek frowned.

- For someone who was never seen us, I think he knows too much.

- You... You understand, sir Gurnisson?

Jaeger leaned forward, looking straight into the Skaven eyes, what put him more uncomfortable. The Human murmured:

- Thanquol... is that you?

- Huh?

- Thanquol, I know you hear me. Wherever you are.

- So... is it true? You know Thanquol?

- Indeed I know him. and Gotrek knows him, too. And Thanquol knows as us well. Do you know him?

- I've never seen him in person, but his name... is regularly pronounced in... communities of my people. And I know... he wants your head, both of yours. But... which link with me?

Jaeger stood up and took a few steps back and forth.

- Young Psody, what you have seen is one of our most violent encounters with Thanquol. He tried to steal the airship designed by the Dwarf Slayer-Engineer Malakai Makaisson, the _Spirit of Grungni_, exactly as you just described.

Suddenly, the voice of Jaeger became increasingly distant, while a cry of rabid animal, very vague, sounded in his ears, and gradually became louder, closer. He looked at Jaeger, and felt his face harden. His lips rolled up, showing his teeth clenched in anger. His eyebrows furrowed. His breathing quickened and grew stronger. Deep inside him, something pushed him, ordered him to attack. This should be visible as one of the soldiers raised his spear.

- Watch it, the rat! One more gesture, and I gut you!

- No, wait! Felix ordered by putting his arms in front of him to stop.

The Human stared fixedly at the White Skaven in the eye.

- That glance... that gleam of hatred in the wards ... I've seen it elsewhere.

Psody gasped, realising what he was doing. He closed his eyes and forced himself to look away. He breathed slowly, deliberately. The beating of his heart slowed, the cries ceased. He opened his eyes, and a tear slipped from between his eyelids again.

- There... It happened again. I had a terrible urge... to kill you. Or rather... something pushed me to do so. Or _someone else_...

- No kidding! Gotrek spat. This "someone" is your sewer rat instinct!

- No, Gotrek, no! He's not lying! His look has really changed for a while.

Jaeger looked again at the White Skaven in his pink eyes, and saw none slightest aggression more.

- You're getting better, right? You don't look like a rabid animal longer.

- Why, why? Psody stammered.

- I guess Thanquol must have felt particularly humiliated that day. To his point of view, we would have stolen him a glorious victory. He had to be accountable after that, and it should have really been unpleasant.

- When did it happen?

- Ten years ago Gotrek growled.

- But I wasn't even born! I can't be angry against you for something that doesn't concern me!

- I understand, but perhaps it is his wrath you're experiencing now. He wants us dead for this story. Moreover, how old are you?

- I'm only four years old!

- Four years? You seem rather mature for someone of that age.

- Yes, but Skaven mature about three times faster than Humans.

Jaeger gave a little shrug.

- Okay, according to our criteria, then you just enter into adulthood. And you say you never had any connection with Thanquol?

- Never-never, but throughout the Under-Empire, everybody knows he hates you. He's ready to use every Skaven he can to capture-capture you.

- He has made several attempts. And speaking of that, know that I have very good reasons to be angry against him, too. And I wonder if, somehow, you're not related to him?

- My master, Grey Seer Vellux, pretends to be the offspring from one of Thanquol's personal breeders. I don't know if this is true or if it's a lie to strengthen his authority-authority, but in any case, I have no blood relationship or with one or with the other, I know.

Jaeger assumed a reflexive turning back on Psody. Then he turned abruptly and took his head in his both hands. He rested his forehead against the Skaven's who didn't dare move, focused his glance on his pink and panicked eyes and muttered in a terrible voice:

- Thanquol, you will stop to torture this young White Skaven. Leave him in peace. If you really want my head, come and get it by yourself instead of sending me disturbed kids!

- Stop-Stop! You're scaring me!

- And this is only the beginning! Gotrek chuckled.

Jaeger loosened his grip and stepped back.

- There are two possibilities: either Thanquol is alive or he's dead. If he's still alive, he must now be too old or stunted by warpstone to fight, but he's trying to make me misery by using you. By cons, if he's dead... It would be funny!

- What? grumbled the Slayer.

- Yes, what? Psody moaned.

- So, you may be a kind of… reincarnation? Your body has become the receptacle of the twisted soul of this Grey Seer. You can be honoured.

The White Skaven widened his eyes.

- "Honoured"? You're kidding! This is terrible-terrible! I don't want!

Psody sank limply hanging by his strings. He felt a terrible fear devour his entrails as ever. More tears slid down his fluffy cheeks. The Dwarf approached, and craned his neck to look at the face of the White Skaven closer.

- Grimnir crushes me, this is the first time I see Skaven tears!

Grief gave way to indignation. Psody opened his pink eyes, and glared daggers at Gotrek.

- Maybe you want to collect them in a cup?

Gotrek grasped firmly in one hand Psody's left horn.

- Don't play with me, or I wedge your antler into your...

- Gotrek!

The Dwarf loosened his grip, grumbling.

- Gotrek, I'd like to talk to him alone.

- You crazy, manling?

- What do you want him to do to me in this state? I want to talk to him without your threatening presence to scare him. Stay behind the door just in case. And you, the guards, do the same.

Before the determined eyes of the Human, the Slayer retreated. He said:

- Don't lean too close of him, he could nibble your balls!

The two guards didn't stir.

- Gentlemen, please...

- We have orders, said the first.

- If we don't follow them, the captain won't be happy, said his lad.

- And I assure you I can make a difference if I do a modicum of confidence. I take the whole responsibility. Stay behind the door. If there's a problem, I will pay the consequences.

These words eventually convinced the two soldiers. They looked at each other, one shrugged, the other made a little sput, and then they withdrew. When the heavy door slammed, Jaeger relaxed a little.

- Well, now we're alone. If you really want my head, nothing prevents you to use your magic.

- You know I won't, sir Jaeger. You wouldn't have dismissed your friends.

- You are insightful for a Skaven.

Jaeger approached the small White Skaven, and whispered in his ear.

- Do you want to kill me, Psody? If I untied, would you try to tear my heart off?

The facies of the young ratman twitched.

- No! I swear! Thanquol wants you dead, but I don't! I'm not Thanquol! I am Psody, and I do not want, I must not let you die!

- Your concern touches me, but what have I so precious to you?

- You... you're the only one in this world who can help me. The _only one_!

- Calm down, please. What can I do to help you, then?

Psody relaxed a bit and thought before calmly say:

- I want to know why everything changed to this point, sir Jaeger. I am an elected chosen one of the Horned Rat. All I wanted was to serve him in the place that was rightfully mine in our society. But everything went wrong since I became directly responsive to his word! When I started to see things, all were afraid of me and began to hate me! My own brother backstabbed me and tried to drown me!

- I thought it was normal for the Skaven society?

- Not for me! Grey Seers are supposed to be the messengers of the Horned Rat! Normally, they are too much respected for someone may dare lay a paw on them!

- Yes, well, as far as I know, betrayal is a way of life for your kind.

- You are right. I would have understood if I had been betrayed by a jealous rival, or my minions only, but if this bastard-bastard Klur did it, it was on the orders of my own master! That's what I don't understand!

- He must have thought you would try to overthrow him.

- While I was just been honoured as Grey Seer? I didn't have the power for that, and we knew it both! And I only wanted to fill him with pride, and so my god, too! I wanted to be like him, not overturn him! However, he... When I told him about what I saw, he was disturbed. I felt it, even if didn't told me. I was afraid of him and his anger, but he shared with me the gift of the Horned Rat, he was the only one to fully understand me. And now... now... I don't know!

The Skaven White wept bitterly. Jaeger was more perplexed.

- How do you know your master ordered this execution?

The little ratman loudly sniffed and stammered:

- The visions, sir Jaeger. They showed me Vellux's jealousy and fear. They have all rejected me. I'm all alone now.

- Okay, it's sad for you, but what can I do?

Psody raised his head, eyes full of hope.

- You are a great adventurer! You know lots of things! Or maybe you have friends who would be able to help me find the key to unlock this mystery? I beg you, sir Jaeger. Help me, or kill me! There is no place where I can go without getting stoned on sight, so if I am condemned to never be able to understand, better finish-finish, from your hand, at least once in my life I have a vision that says true!

- Come on, don't be so dramatic. We won't go so far. And for now, I don't want to kill you.

The detached tone of the human surprised the young ratman. Jaeger rubbed his chin with a thoughtful frown.

- You are right on one point: I've seen a lot of things that a lot of my peers don't survive. Indeed, what you're asking me... Well, I should say, I've already been asked for help, of course. But I've never received such a request from a Skaven. You're the first one.

The Human supported the pleading look of the White Skaven.

- Look, Psody, I promise you nothing, I don't have much influence. If the lord Gottlieb decides to nail you on a tree, I can't do anything to prevent it. But you understood, I have a rather curious nature. And I confess that you seem more to be pitied than detestable. Again, I can't guarantee anything, but I'll see if I can do something. In the meantime, I'll ask Gottlieb not condemn you right away.

The young ratman breathed a sigh of relief.

- May the Horned Rat bless you, sir Jaeger.

- Well, if you want to live long among Humans, this is the kind of blessing that you must avoid, my young friend. I know it starts with a good intention, but this is not the case for the majority of the population of the Empire. Invoke a forbidden by the clergy god is a sufficient reason to cut your tongue off.

Psody looked down without answering. Jaeger continued:

- For now, I'm sorry, but for the safety of all, I must tie you again.

The White Skaven sadly sniffed and lightly nodded. The Human put the gag in his mouth and the leather headband back, then left the cell, leaving the poor little ratman to his fate.

A few days passed, while the survivors of Gottliebschloss could heal their wounds, take care of those who fell in battle, dismantle the Skaven camp and inventory the remaining resources. This turnaround happened timely because the food warehouse was practically empty, and Augustus Gessler, the cellarer on Gottlieb's service, was afraid of sacrificing all animals to feed soldiers and refugees. The ratmen left, Lord Gottlieb was eager to send a messenger to warn his neighbour, Lord Sebastian Gruber, and beg him medical assistance and food.

Felix Jaeger, in turn, with the agreement of the lord, had somehow tried to reassure citizens of Gottliebschloss. Indeed, the highest authorities of the Empire hushed up at all costs the official existence of Skaven. The poet and his few friends had always to publicly denying the existence of the sons of the Horned Rat. Jaeger knew very well that the interest of such a secret was threefold.

First, he explained to Gottlieb and important personalities of his court, announcing by official decree the population that entire cities of aggressive monsters hungry for human flesh were buried in each city of the Empire was a sure way to cause total hysterical panic that nobody needed. On the other hand, a generalised Skaven hunt could be even more disastrous, because it would require all Skaven to stop their infighting to unite against a common enemy, an enemy against which they were superior in numbers, technology, and ferocity. Finally, it was the most shameful, the authorities ensured their hold on the minds of the plebeians, and quickly silenced the strongest personalities that threatened to destabilize their power.

Even if it frustrated him, Jaeger preferred into this game when he had to explain to the people. He knew too well the propensity of the crowd to panic and shoot the messenger. So he had agreed with Gotrek and Gottlieb to pretend the castle was besieged by rodent-headed beast-men. About their prisoner, his life would never be revealed, and the guards that saw him had been threatened to be sentenced to prison if they spoke.

Gotrek had led a small battalion of volunteers to go around the area, looking for survivors, Human or not. They had found the Kleist band and bodies of Skaven who fought against them. Some bodies added to the pyre that had drawn a few steps from the castle. The huge pile of wood and corpses glowed day and night, purifying Gottliebschloss this tragedy forever.

The evening of the third day, the lord Gottlieb gathered his closest advisors, and the two adventurers, to take stock of the situation. They were all in the dining room, around the table, Gottlieb at one end, Jaeger to the other. The poet wondered who would tackle the first the problem of their curious prisoner. It was the chamberlain.

Augustus Gessler was a middle-aged man, with a pronounced stoutness in his cardigan. He had a brown well-trimmed goatee, and a stern look. He took control of the look of each summoned, and once sure he had their attention, spoke thus:

- My lord, my lady, if not great news, at least I can tell you that we were able to treat all the wounded, and our brave volunteers were able to harvest some fruits and hunt in the forest. These disgusting creatures have not had time to ravage everything, fortunately for us. But I hope the lords around will give us a hand.

- Do not worry, Gessler, Gottlieb said. This old Gruber is a long-time friend, he won't forsake us.

- Actually, this is not what worries me the most, my lord. I'm thinking about our... "guest".

- How is it? inquired the lady Franzseska Gottlieb.

- Like an ordinary prisoner. He sleeps, he eats, but it does nothing more. Well, master Jaeger can talk better than me.

Since nobody wanted to deliberately approach the White Skaven, Felix Jaeger had volunteered to watch him. He had been left the keys of the cell, and he went regularly check his status in his spare time. Gottlieb turned to the poet. The latter explained:

- I give reason to master Gessler. He looks more like a prisoner of war than a beast in a cage against its will. In fact, he's quiet.

- I don't know if I should feel reassured so far, said the Lord.

- Can I give you my opinion, my lord? asked Gessler.

- Please.

The chamberlain cleared his throat, and explained:

- I think keeping it here is a very bad idea, my lord. Most people would imagine that it's an ordinary beast-man, but thanks to sir Jaeger, we know it's not true. And I'm afraid it calls other ratmen to the rescue.

- How could he do? He is locked in the deepest dungeon!

- Sir Jaeger, I read the books of your adventures. So I know that you know they are even more dangerous than they look!

- Ah, these books... I wonder how many times I must say that it was fictionalized?

- Whatever, cut Gottlieb. It's true I have to take a decision. I can't keep it here forever! If this is not a contingent of creatures of his race that will pick it up, it will be the priests!

- That's why I recommend to get rid of it, my lord.

- Yeah! Gotrek grumbled with an evil grin, raising his axe.

Jaeger got up.

- No!

- No? repeated Gottlieb.

- We can't just coldly execute him!

- There it will attract only problems!

- I really want to know what he has in mind, my lord. Would you please at least give me a last chance to make him talk?

Gottlieb's face scowled.

- You're done, Gessler?

- Yes, my lord.

- You can withdraw. I guess you have to do.

- Yes, my lord.

Gessler bowed and took leave of assistance. Lady Franzseska had an annoyed sigh.

- Frankly, my dear, I do not feel reassured. Gessler is right, all of this will end so badly!

- I know, my dear wife, but sir Jaeger insists Jaeger we let it alive at the moment! I still want to know why?

- Because he needs help, and he's counting on me, my lord.

The wife of the lord had a disapproving look at the poet.

- Did you really talk with this... _thing_?

- I could actually exchange a few words with him. This "thing" is called Psody. And, believe it or not, I think another exchange could be constructive.

- If it wanted to speak to you, I guess. However, given its current behavior, it won't say anything constructive. However, its presence is bothering me, and I'm not the only one.

- Hey, that's what I'm telling him for an hour! Gotrek chuckled.

- Look, he's a poor kid who has been submitted to a very violent education, and whose mind is clouded by drugs and tormented by nightmares. Forget the giant rat face, see someone in trouble, and counting on me for help! He came to me to get answers. No normal Skaven would.

- It wants your head, manling! Maybe you're right, it is controlled by this Thanquol rapscallion. But in my opinion, it's just playing a comedy to lower your guard, and that's what you're doing!

- And I'm sure its kind will return, more numerous and more aggressive! replied the lady. Sir Jaeger, you know what these monsters are capable of! And now you are defending one of them! You show sympathy for it certainly touching, but that will be very soon mortally dangerous because it is naivety! Isn't your opinion, sir Kaufman, who had the opportunity to see this creature closer?

Helmut Kaufman, the mage affiliate to Gottliebschloss domain, had studied at the Golden College of Nuln. Members of the Golden Order were known to be particularly rational in their analysis. They left no place for doubt, nor precipitation, or daydreaming. Known for their materialism, they filled their laboratories with complex machinery and various alchemical potions. The Golden Order was the richest Orders of magic of the Empire, and the least feared by the population. They were called "alchemists".

Without his mask, Kaufman was a man of size and stature inferior to the average, with a bald forehead, circled by a mop of brown hair. A moustache of the same colour emerged under a strong nose, and his bulging eyes behind rolled thick copper spectacles. When he didn't directly participate in a conversation, he was tirelessly scribbling sketches with captions in a notebook he used to keep in one of his pockets. Jaeger had the opportunity to discuss with him. As one of his few friends was the mage Max Schreiber of Light College, he wasn't intrinsically frightened by arcane sorcery practitioners. So he had been able to enjoy the company of Kaufman at fair value, and he hoped to see the alchemist go his way.

Kaufman deftly put away his notebook, adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat and spoke to Gottlieb.

- My Lord, my Lady, I'm torn. Personally, I find this is a very interesting case. We could probably learn something from this Skaven. I know they have a very powerful technology, rivalling the Dwarves'. They use a very particular material, warpstone. If we could tame warpstone, the possibilities would be enormous. However, the fact that it is a Skaven sorcerer scares me slightly. I was able to isolate its cell with retention runes, but honestly, I don't know how long it would hold it. It doesn't look very old, or experienced, but I've learned not to trust appearances. I don't know the ins and outs of Skaven magic, and I don't like not knowing what I'm dealing with.

He paused, and turned to the poet.

- If we were in the Golden College, we could interrogate it without taking too many risks, but here, in this isolated castle, where there is only one mage, just after a siege, keep it alive seems… unwise.

Jaeger felt a twinge in his heart. The more this conversation progressed, the more the fate of their strange prisoner seemed sealed, and it didn't rejoice him. He couldn't determine if it was curiosity or something else, but he didn't want to leave the White Skaven being condemned. He protested by using arguments that he hoped percussive enough for the mage.

- Master Kaufman, not you! As a sorcerer, you know better than all of us how it is to create distrust and aggression simply by your nature! You've learned to be over that, right?

- It's true that we, mages, are often considered as a necessary evil by the majority of citizens. I don't want to seem limited, sir Jaeger. I assure you that in other circumstances, I would accompany you in your conversation with it. But my role here is to ensure that no harmful magic threatens our community. Perhaps its only presence may alert other Skaven wizards who would get it?

- Even with your runes?

- My runes prevent it to capture winds of magic, but they have limited effectiveness, and I do not know if they can withstand long Skaven magic.

Jaeger could not help to start a look of reproach to the alchemist. The latter consented to explain further:

- Felix, I feel sorry for it if you're right. To execute a child is monstrous at the highest point, but if it's potentially dangerous, it's unfortunately usually needed. It absolutely doesn't enchant me, especially if this child is not responsible of the danger, but in some cases, it's better to sacrifice a life than risk hundreds. I remind you that women and children much more innocent than this Skaven are in the balance! And I prefer to have on my conscience the life of a White Skaven with questionable behaviour than any other person within these walls!

- Especially since we have no certainty about his sincerity, added Lady Franzseska. If I believe the stories, I tend to see a trick, too.

- I was at Nuln ten years ago, said Kaufman. That night, I lost several members of my family and friends. I know what these people are capable of.

Jaeger felt his frustration going up.

- Am I the only one to see Psody as anything else than a threat? He surrendered to us without resistance, he explained why he was there, he... he _trusts_ me! I was at Nuln, too. This is where I met Thanquol for the first time. Thanquol is a White Skaven, a rabid bloodthirsty maniac, who doesn't hesitate to resort to the worst means to reach his goals. Nothing in common with this unfortunate kid who begged me to help him! What will I tell him? "Sorry, but we'll kill you, nothing personal, but you're a risk"? He fled his lair, because his brother had tried to assassinate him, he came to find answers, he's counting on our _humanity_. You think what we're about to do is behave humanely?

Nobody answered, but Gottlieb, Kaufman, Gotrek and Captain Rothemd all now considered the poet with suspicion and condescension. He wouldn't stop there. Rummaging through his ideas, he quickly sought a new argument to introduce, when a voice said with conviction:

- I concur in the opinion of sir Jaeger.

All occupants of the room turned to the man who just spoke. He got up from the stool near the fireplace on which he was sat. He was a man of medium stature and size, light complexioned, clean shaven, with two deep blue eyes and brown short cut hair. He was about thirty springs old but the serious expression on his face foreshadowed he had lived enough events to fill at least the double. He wore a large white, immaculate homespun, with embroidery representing a heart which dripped a drop of blood on the left side of his chest. He took a few steps toward the table.

- Prior Romulus… murmured Lord Gottlieb.

Romulus was a priest of Shallya, the Goddess of Healing, Compassion and Births in the pantheon of the Empire. Like all his church brothers and sisters, he had vowed to help anyone in need of physical or psychological care, whatever its nature, with the exception of the servants of Nurgle, the god of Decay. As the Order of Shallya was composed overwhelmingly of women, the few men were usually homeless. They took less risk on the roads, and didn't turn away the attention of the priestesses.

Some time earlier, while in transit between two great imperial cities with a convoy, Romulus had sought asylum to lord Gottlieb for one night, but as the Skaven had attacked the same evening by an evil chance, he had been unable to leave the place. Once the Skaven routed, he was left to care for the wounded, which didn't bother the lord at all. The latter asked:

- Could you go to the end of your thought?

- Certainly, my lord. If I believe what I just heard, we are dealing with someone quite extraordinary.

- So, you think this creature is a person?

- Yes, Captain Rothemd. This is an intelligent being, able to communicate, with feelings, and the ability to reason. So, for me and for my order, he is a person.

- Demons are also able to speak, replied Lady Franzseska. It doesn't make them people like us. Demons are soulless.

- You are right, my lady, but it has been proven the demons come from another reality, the same one where mages draw their power from. When you kill a demon, it turned to dust and back to where it came from. However, the Skaven are made of flesh, blood and bones. They eat, drink and breathe normally. As hard to believe as it may be, he's born of a mother, grew up and is dedicated to decompose when his death come. You have seen all the dead Skaven, right? We even had to incinerate. In my opinion, biologically, they constitute a race of its own, as Dwarves or Elves.

- They say everywhere they are mutants, or beast-men! Lord Gottlieb protested violently.

- Oh, it is quite possible that they are cousins of the beast-men. But I myself had the opportunity to observe their behaviour on numerous occasions during my travels. Their society is more organized than the barbarian tribes of beast-men. And the fact of going to see you is a clear sign of this difference, don't you think?

Gottlieb was about to reply, but refrained, finally. His wife asked:

- Assuming you're right, prior, you won't tell me you believe this crazy fable, will you?

- I saw with my own eyes what happened, I witnessed the surrender of this little ratman through a window. I distinctly heard our language, and then I saw you obey you, my lord, when you have ordered him not to move. He behaved like you and me in the same situation, you can't deny it. No beast-man has never done this, nor any Orc or any mutant, nor any other creature of this kind.

- It's true, approved Kaufman.

Franzseska lady sighed.

- Right, we're between us, and I'm not afraid of being accused of heresy by according you at least my doubt, but if you're right... what can we do then?

- I would like to see him. I think being near him, within a reasonable distance, I'll be better able to identify his feelings. If I perceive in him something that I've seen in one or other of the people Shallya asked me to take care, so I continue to obey my goddess by helping him.

All eyes widened. Captain Rothemd stammered:

- You... you're not serious?

- I've never been more serious, captain. You know it, only the abominations of the Lord of the Flies are abhorred by Shallya. All other living beings struck by misfortune deserve our compassion. If he truly is a lost child who's begging assistance, I must give it to him, even if he looks like a giant rat. And I don't do so as by duty than desire.

The captain made a grimace of disgust.

- Don't tell me... your mind is corrupted!

- Watch your words! Lady Franzseska barked. You're talking to a priest who saved the lives of many of your men, and with admirable dedication!

- Don't worry, my lady, muttered the prior with a lifted hand. It is true that I meet more often than I would like the forces of Chaos, and I could be accused of heresy and corruption. This is the fate of Shallya itinerant priests.

Kaufman chuckled in complicity. The prior turned to the lord.

- My lord, you have locked this White Skaven in a cell. Does the door have a peephole?

- Yes, if you want, you can see it without approaching it.

- Good. Sir Jaeger? Could you take me to him?

Jaeger rose in turn.

- Let's go.

Both Humans walked through the castle for long minutes. Night had fallen, and the campaign was calm. Only a few soldiers were still making their rounds outside. They came into the yard, crossed a door guarded by two soldiers. The clergyman descended a slippery steps staircase and followed Jaeger through a long underground corridor, lit by torches. Advantaging that there were no guards within earshot, the poet murmured:

- Prior, I'd like to thank you.

- For what, sir Jaeger?

- To have been able to convince Gottlieb give him a chance.

- Don't thank me too soon, sir Jaeger. I didn't win yet. As a priest of Shallya, I can have a small influence among lords who are willing to listen to me, but it is limited. Gottlieb left me holding his arm, but he can strike the sword at any time without I can do anything.

- You think the others are right? He could be really a dangerous manipulator?

- It is a possibility, I admit. For what I've seen or heard about her, I seriously doubt it, but we must remain vigilant.

Both Imperial citizens stopped before a heavy door reinforced with many fittings, and no less than three locks.

- These symbols painted on the walls are the runes of protection of master Kaufman?

- Indeed, prior. He enchanted all the exterior walls of the cell from floor to ceiling, which prevents access to every wind of magic to the prisoner. There is no danger. Even if he isn't covered by chains, he is completely impotent.

Jaeger opened the small flat and cast a quick glance.

- Look at him and tell me if you really see a fearsome monster.

Romulus leaned over the opening.

Sitting on the cold pavement of the dungeon, Psody was painful to see. He had recovered his robe, and a few of his hard-earned dignity. But he was obviously hopeless. Prostrate at the foot of the wall, his head buried in his arms crossed on his knees, he stood motionless. A few feet away, his bowl was full of cold porridge, he hadn't touched. His attitude left no room for doubt in the eyes of the prior, who had seen it many times while comforting people sentenced to death. He discerned his expression, in all points similar to his most aggrieved flock. He felt even his own eyebrows rise in surprise distinguishing a tear beading in the corner of his pink eye. But he remained master of his emotions, and simply asked:

- How much time is he like this?

- Since he was been unchained, the day after his arrival, he barely ate, and hasn't more said a word, even to me. I'm afraid this little guy is letting himself die.

The prior gestured to invite Jaeger away from the door. Once sure to be out of reach of listening to anyone, he explained:

- I had the opportunity to see Skaven in his situation, and it was different; we had to cover them with chains to prevent them from killing themselves by hysteria. This one looks to me very quiet, indeed.

- Yes, because he's awake. By cons, when he sleeps...

- He has a restless sleep?

- This is the least you can say, prior! He cries, he inveighs in his native language, he's terrified, until he wakes up. He then falls into silence until the next night. This is probably what drives him mad, but as long as he doesn't speak, nobody can do anything for him. And now, the guards are getting nervous, because his crises are becoming more violent. Last night I had to make him swallow by force an anaesthetic medication brewed by Master Kaufman. And then you've heard the others. Soon, exchanges with neighbouring areas resume, and if the Sigmarites or Ulricans learn that a Skaven is here...

Prior Romulus made a thoughtful pout, while Jaeger continued:

- I wish to see in him something else than a simple White Skaven, but my intellect is whispering me what Gotrek said earlier; he could pretend to sleep our suspicion, and take us treacherously at the first opportunity. If it's the case, I'll have to assume the consequences.

- Don't worry. Skaven are cunning, but not up to play such a comedy. They use bribery, they manipulate, but the witnesses report that they tend to want to be helped by terrifying or exciting our covetous side. A Skaven could try to save its life by pitying the one who's threatening it, of course, but surrender us with such a story, it is very far from their habits. For me, it is quaint.

- Hopefully you're right, prior. True, I feel sorry for him, but on the other hand, he's worrying me a little.

- He frightens you?

- Not him, but what is disturbing him. And there is a relationship with me, prior. Something sends him dreams and orders him to kill me, and I _want_ to know what it is!

- Do you really think it would be this Thanquol?

- I don't know. This kid is the only one who can help us to see clearly, but as you can see, he has a blockage. I guess it's because fear or pride, and in both cases, I don't see how to do with it.

- I will. May I talk to him?

Jaeger had a worried grimaced.

- I don't know if it is a good idea.

- Well, what can he do to me? You said, thanks to the protection runes, he can't use the power of his divinity. You searched him from head to toe, I guess, so he has no weapon on him.

- We can never be sure, he may have deceived our vigilance, Skaven are experts in this discipline. And he has his claws, teeth and horns.

- If he tries anything, I can defend myself. I am bigger and stronger than him, and the goddess Shallya allows me to protect my life as I don't take his. Anyway, if he tries to escape from this cell, you'll kill him before he crosses the door, and he knows it very well.

- Maybe that's what he wants, prior. Push us to execute him.

- It would be surprising. Like I said, I've seen locked Skaven, all behaved like rabid beasts, throwing to the door of their cage to break it, until losing consciousness. None of them remained sitting quietly like that. In fact, it's not in the Skaven nature to meekly surrender and accept being locked. He doesn't _really_ behave like those I could approach. And I doubt whether it is a ruse. However, I didn't have to look long to feel his distress.

- Even if he's a Skaven?

- His face is different from ours, but his fear and sadness are the same.

- He used to my presence, but I don't know how he could react if you enter!

- I'll take the risk. If I wanted to live a bland life, I would have stayed in my monastery. And I think you know it, and you were hoping that I make this request. Ten minutes ago, you were ready to face Gottlieb and his advisers to give him a reprieve. I just had to watch this Skaven for a second to be permanently on your side.

This time, Jaeger said nothing. Inwardly, he gloated while hoping not to have to regret. The prior continued:

- I can try to examine his heart, and for this, I wish to share a few words with him; contemplate him through that door is not enough. Please, let me go. I can't let a living being in this state without trying something. Come on, do me this favour. I also want to understand why.

Jaeger nodded with a wry smile.

Hearding the characteristic rattle of keys turning in the locks and the scraping of wood on the ground, Psody lifted his head slightly. He saw before him a Human who wore a dress resembling those of Plague Monks, except that it was white, and better maintained. The door closed behind him. Jaeger said through the door: "I'm watching." The man approached Psody and smiled sympathetically.

- Hello.

The Skaven White did not reply, but he felt his eyebrows frown of distrust. His eyes focused onto the man's face.

- I am the prior Romulus, young man. I've heard they call you Psody? And you're a Grey Seer, aren't you?

This time, the young ratman nodded slightly, without removing his eyes from his interlocutor. The smile of the prior stretched a little. He sat quietly beside him.

- Any Human sees you as a detestable enemy. The fact is, since immemorial time, Skaven and Humans confront. The most dangerous are the Grey Seers, because they manipulate terrifying destructive power. For years, I read these stories, I thought the images that our ancestors have left us. I've even seen many of your peers with my own eyes, before the siege. But you don't evoke me the horrible things that your people inspires us. When I look at you, I see just a little boy, perhaps not very friendly or very sincere, but in any case very sad. And it is to help people as sad as this little boy I swore to dedicate my life to serving Shallya.

The Abbot paused. Finally, he heard the hesitant voice of the Skaven ask:

- Who is Shallya?

- This is our Goddess of Compassion. Do you know what compassion is?

- Uh... no.

- I guess this word is not part of the vocabulary of Skaven. Compassion is the act of sharing the suffering of someone. I see you are very sad, and I feel this sadness. Not as much as you, of course, but I perceive it, as if I was sad for the same reason, myself.

The little White Skaven seemed flabbergasted. This concept, previously foreign to him, seemed to be deeply absurd.

- It's... it's silly-stupid! It's not funny to feel pain, why inflict willingly it to yourself?

- Because it allows me to understand exactly why you feel bad. When you understand a problem like this, when you manage to determinate where it comes from, it can be treated. And when you share your pain, it's like when you share a piece of bread, everyone will have a smaller half. Your suffering will be easier to bear, and you can find the energy to cure it. And as I will know its taste, I can help you to calm it down.

This speech surprised the young ratman at the highest point. He thought he recognised the attitude of his master when he pretended to be happy with him, and it fanned his distrust.

- Oh yeah? So heal me, priest!

The prior's smile vanished.

- I would like to, sincerely, but...

- But what? Psody cut. You're not capable, huh? I knew it!

The prior was accustomed to confronting recalcitrant people. Without losing an ounce of patience, he explained:

- What I was going to say is that I can help you feel better. I hope to help you understand what is troubling you, and help you find peace. I've done this with other people like you before.

- I'm a Skaven! I don't think like Humans!

- Of course you do. You even have acted as a Human several times since your arrival at Gottliebschloss. First, you have helped us hunt those who harassed us. Then you came to discuss without violence. And now, you agree to follow a conversation with me, unlike all other Skaven that I had to face.

Again, the soothing tone of the priest and his unusual words destabilized the little ratman. The Human noticed, and continued:

- You have all the reasons to distrust me. You don't know me, I represent something that is completely unknown to you, and I ask for your trust. I know a little about the customs of your people. Not much, but enough to know that you live in fear and anger all the time. I can help you transform this fear into joy, and anger into peace, but for that, I need you. I need to know more about you and your problems to help you solve them.

- Why are you doing this? I'm just a filthy...

- You are a living being with a conscience, a heart and feelings, cut in turn Romulus. You have very serious problems that prevent you from sleeping and prompt you be angry against sir Jaeger spite of yourself. Your priests spread disease and destruction of all lives, my order is there to heal the suffering of the body and the soul of all who live. The only thing I really need is your trust. Tell me your story, and I will do everything in my power to relieve you.

The small Skaven White opened his mouth, loosened his teeth. He took his inspiration, the words felt ready to come out of his throat... but a knot in his guts cut off his breath again. He looked down. More tears slid slowly down the short fur that covered his cheeks.

- I... I can't. I can't do it. It's too hard.

Romulus rose with a little heartbroken sigh.

- Sorry, my young friend, but as long as you refuse to talk, I can't help you. To treat the sickness, it should be known, and therefore know its origin.

- Oh... I...

- I can understand that it is difficult for you to talk about things that concern the most intimate aspects of your person, and your nature pushes you not to disclose.

- It's so. I'd like to, but my survival instinct forbids it, and another part of me says that you couldn't understand, anyway!

- "A part of you", "your survival instinct"... what about you? You, Psody, the White Skaven speaking to me, what do you think?

- I don't know. I know nothing now.

Romulus meditated for a few moments before continuing:

- No, really, for the moment, I'm in a dead-end.

The White Skaven felt his face scowl more.

- But...

The voice of prior made him straighten his head in a movement, suddenly very attentive.

- I know someone who might be able to help you. More than me or sir Jaeger.

- Who? Please, tell me! Psody begged, jumping to his feet.

Romulus walked slowly to and fro while explaining:

"Just like you, the most powerful of our society keep jealously knowledge about the world as it really is, and prefer to impose their version of things to the crowd in order to better control it. Most people merely one truth, without complaining. But there are some people with a rebellious temperament. People who don't agree with those the commanders, and who believe that reality is not these they have been taught. You are one of these people, Psody, that's why you're here. I am, and I have a friend who has a... unusual hobby.

"In the capital of the Empire, there is a rich merchant, from an old imperial family. It has a lot of money, and doesn't hesitate to use them to satisfy his curiosity. This curiosity would certainly make him banished for heresy or worse if the authorities learned. Until now, his generous donations to the city have more or less bought the indulgence of its leaders. He took big risks, but the game has always been worth it, because he has spent the last decade studying your race.

"For ten years, this merchant collects all the information he can find on Skaven. He read in long, wide and across Leiber's book entitled _The Loathsome Ratmen and all their vile Kin_, and decided to extend this analysis. Over the years, he captured several Skaven to better study them. Of course, this wasn't such a pleasant experience for them, and they are all dead from exhaustion after their hysteria, or medical accident. Nevertheless, this has permitted us to confirm the words of Leiber and find other useful information. But unfortunately, my friend is coming to the end of his research. Indeed, the Skaven anatomy has no more secret for us, now. However, he never had the opportunity to approach a White Skaven. I'm sure he would appreciate to meet you."

Psody felt his eyebrows frown of disgust.

- I don't want to become a guinea pig!

- You won't. As I told you, we don't have much to discover on the Skaven physiology. However, you can bring something to my friend that he never hoped for in his wildest dreams: answers to his questions about the Skaven society. Despite our studies, we still don't know how you live, what are you communication ways, your social relationships, your hierarchic organisation... and you can be sure we have never been able to take any information from Skaven we captured. We only have presumptions and very vague testimonies from escaped slaves became mad. Imagine the joy it would be for my friend to talk with you. A direct testimony, firsthand. And what a testimony! From a member of the elite of the Skaven society. There won't be question to drug you or dissect you dead or alive, but to complete our knowledge thanks to yours. I'm sure you have explanation of many of our questions. And you'll speak only of what you want to. You won't discuss about your problems with him, information about your society will suffice.

The young ratman stroked his chin.

- Hmm... It's true, I know these things, but I can't deliver it to the first Human I meet! Even if they chased me, Skaven are my people, and you could use my knowledge to eliminate them!

- I don't deny it, but if we had the means to exterminate your people, we would have done long ago. However, we are less numerous and less well equipped than you, it is a fact. If we all unite to fight against Skaven, they would stop fighting between them constantly and all unite in turn against the Empire, and we wouldn't be able to resist.

- Is this because of the war against the weird-things that took place two years ago?

- You know for the Storm of Chaos.

- The Skaven had to face it, too.

- In any case, my friend and I don't have pretension to organise a Skaven hunt. We want to use this knowledge to know them better, and better defend ourselves when they attack us.

Psody took a few seconds to think again.

- Well... maybe you say the truth, but admit you would be careful, too, if you were in my place.

- I understand that. There will be a consideration from us, obviously.

- I would get something, out of live longer-longer?

- Of course. First, you would naturally have access to all our scientific writings on the Skaven. This would allow you to better see how we see yours, and you can help us fill our gaps, which are probably numerous. Then there may be things that you wouldn't have learned. I wouldn't be surprised if your master Grey Seer lied to you, by omission or misinformation. Many priests do it in Human society.

- Well, for Skaven, where treachery is a way of life, that's for sure! Psody quipped.

- Finally, you can read our history, geography, science books... and bring _your_ point of view. We may be able to better understand some things with an unreported judgement, yours.

The voice of the prior became deeper.

- And what I want for you is to find among all these sciences the explanation that you miss! From what my kind has compiled during more than two thousand may be the key to your puzzle! These visions that haunt your nights express things, and maybe you could decode!

- Yes... the White Skaven muttered thoughtfully. It is possible, yes!

- You might find historical, mythological or simply physiological significance? And you won't need to talk about embarrassing things. And if, Shallya forbid, you find nothing, at least you would have tried. Anyway, this can be beneficial for your mind. You go ahead, instead of letting you die in that cell. That's what I propose: help my friend perfect his knowledge about your kind, and we'll do everything we can so you can find what you're looking for, at your own pace.

Psody clenched his fists in excitement with inspiration impatient, but he quickly curbed that emotion. He hesitated a while before asking:

- You really think this gentleman would allow me so much?

- I'm sure. This proposal is firm.

- He knows a lot of Skaven?

- Oh yes, perhaps even more than you could imagine.

Psody believed detect on the face of the prior an indecipherable smile. He didn't care of it, and asked again:

- So... I will speak about Skaven... without being subjected to experiments?

- I vouch. In fact, this gentleman is a very good friend of my father. He has no son, but has always regarded me as such, and I trust him completely. Maybe he will ask you to do some reading or calculations to measure your intelligence by our methods, but it no harm will be inflicted to you. I promise you solemnly. I serve the Goddess of Compassion, and sending deliberately someone to suffering and death would be the worst blasphemy I could commit towards her.

The priest looked grave when he said in a low voice:

- May Shallya banish me forever the fullness of the Kingdom of Morr, her father, if what I say is not the truth.

The White Skaven took a few steps, looking thoughtful.

- I guess lord Gottlieb wants me to disappear from his castle.

- Alas, I'm afraid so. I didn't know how present the situation to you, but you've already understood, he would like to see you go faster... His wife and his advisers too.

- So I have the choice between visiting your friend or end on a pyre?

- Recognize this is not quite a difficult choice.

The young ratman looked thoughtfully toward the ceiling, lowered his eyelids, and inhaled deeply. Then he looked at Romulus, into his eyes.

- I don't know where all this will bring me, but... I'm asking you: talk with you friend. If he can help me find the meaning of my nightmares, I'll help him to better understand my species as much as I can.

- You're doing the right choice, Psody. I promise you. I'll send a message by carrier pigeon before tonight. I'll have the reply within two days, Gottlieb could wait this delay, and I'm sure the answer will be positive.

The prior then saw something he wanted since he learned the existence of his unusual interlocutor: the young White Skaven had a little sad smile.

**Note from the author****: you guessed it; I arrived at a critical point in the plot. It is possible that I go to a too wacky direction for the Warhammer universe.**

**On the other hand****, for professional reasons, I'll have to slow down over the coming months. The story continues, but more slowly.**

**Thank you all for**** your understanding.**

**Above all,**** do not hesitate to post your comments, they are welcome. I'll try to answer your prospective questions about this story.**

**Glory to the**** Horned Rat!**


	13. Battle Reeks

Klur of Eshin Clan quickened his pas. He clutched against his chest a leather bag which contained several parchments, reports of his recent comments. Indeed, the anthracite Skaven had spent the previous ten days to observe the surface around. Master Assassin Tweezil had summoned him, with three other Gutter Runners to browse campaigns and spy men-things villages. He had seen very ordinary things, but also situations that were much less. He was careful to note in the squeaking and aggressive Skaven language the most important points.

Returned to the colony, he was heading now towards the district of Clan Eshin. There was no way that led directly outside the sector, or in any other area of a major clan, too. He had borrowed the nearest tunnel, to submit fastest a report to his boss.

He felt his nose scowling in disgust when he crossed the clumsy silhouette of a Plague Monk in dress. The disgust was stronger when he recognised the smell of his younger blood brother, Moly. The latter looked up at his approach.

- I say! Klur! Here you are!

- Don't have time.

Klur would leave behind him the Pestilens and continue his journey, but he heard again:

- Klur! I had a vision of you!

The anthracite Skaven stopped. Without turning, he groaned:

- Aren't we engaged, or something?

- The Horned Rat sent me a message-message.

- You ate a bad mushroom again, Moly.

- Klur, look at me when I'm talking to you.

The Eshin turned slowly, his eyes shining with suspicion.

- What do you want, you degenerate scum?

- I saw huge hands crushing your head. A strong hate, a deep hatred, indeed. I don't know when, but something will grind your pretty face. I shouldn't tell you, but you're in danger-danger.

- So why do you tell me, then?

- Because you're my brother.

Klur spat.

- So you've bought into it, too! Sucker!

Moly growled angrily.

- I'm trying to protect your life and you yell at me! You ingrate! I hope you'll have time to see your beautiful little face crumbled-crumbled before dying!

And in an angry pace, he let the Eshin there and walked away. Klur watched him disappear down the tunnel, and had a cruel smile, thinking:

_Me, ingrate? Don't forget I could have killed you, too._

The anthracite Skaven remembered the day his young white brother had died from his hand. He had lured him into a trap away from the group. To divert his attention, he had killed one of the assassin apprentices under his tutelage, and had dressed him with the curvature of Moly. Too busy berating the one he thought to be the cream Skaven, Psody had not seen him coming. A stab in the lower back, then the drowning in the muddy waters of the marsh.

Klur had needed Moly's Plague Monk dress. Shortly before the attack, he had led him away by imitating animal sounds, then had knocked back with a stone. His effectiveness in the sling was recognised among his peers. Moly had sprawled full length on the ground moss. Klur had undressed him, taking care not to touch him. Finally, he had been tempted to finish him, really. But at the last moment, something had caught his arm. Pity, seeing the unsavoury state of his body? Disgust? Or something else? He had never found the answer.

Moly of Clan Pestilens went his way cursing a slew of curses on the anthracite Skaven. He fumbled in the folds of his dress and pulled out a handful of leaves of seaweed, stuffed it in his mouth. He turned his saliva on his tongue to mix plants, swallowed everything, and relaxed. This drug was still effective, and he ended up no longer thinking about Klur. He focused his mind on another facies even bleaker. The Deacon Soum was waiting for him, for a moment he knew it was capital.

Three knocks sounded on the door of the laboratory.

- Come in! barked Grey Seer Vellux.

The door opened slowly on a Skaven who usually was very difficult to see. Master Assassin Tweezil was only visible when he allowed. This small Skaven as black as ink was one of the most dangerous of the whole colony, and was well aware of this. Yet he didn't seem particularly daunting at first.

His birth was already an enigma. His coat and constitution should have predicted him to join the ranks of Stormvermin, but to the amazement of the Fangleader, when he reached a height of four feet and a half, after two annual cycles, he no longer grew up. First, his dorm mates had used to mock him and molest him twice more. The Fangleader, before this embarrassing situation, had declared publicly the condemnation of the "clumsily laid one". But the D day, all the occupants of the dormitory were found slaughtered, except Tweezil who had disappeared.

Two more years later, Grey Seer Vellux granted the status of adult to Tweezil of Clan Eshin. It was a great surprise for all those who still remembered the half-Stormvermin. The chief of Clan had never regretted having listened to his instinct and given a chance to the small black Skaven who came to find him. Tweezil had an uncommon strength, despite his small size, and his master had helped him to improve his speed and flexibility. He needed little time to establish himself within the Clan Eshin, up to take its command. The Master Assassin was killed by his hand, but he took it pretty well, convinced to have found a worthy successor.

Indeed, Tweezil was a worthy successor. He moved more often on the walls or ceiling than on the ground like everyone else. He daily trained the practice of assassination. Each day, two or three slaves, Clanrats or disruptors to Clan Eshin disappeared by his hand. When he felt a slight relaxation of vigilance among his underlings, he liquidated whose of them he considered the least effective and exposed him on the public square as a reprimand to his Clan. Moreover, whenever a Skaven disappeared in a remaining unexplained way, responsibility was attributed to him, less often wrongly than rightly.

Trouble stories circulated in the colony about this strange Skaven. First, his permanent calm in all circumstances was a constant source of questions. Nobody had ever seen him lose his composure, even in the most desperate situations. It was rumoured that it was not blood that flowed in his veins, but icy liquid metal. The day he had been amputated his musk glands scored memories. Typically, this operation was carried out shortly after the birth of the future Night Runner, and no one remembered how painful was this moment. However, he had undergone this mutilation after his breakaway out of the Stormvermin district. Skaven of Clan Eshin who attended this ritual were all kept chilled in admiration and terror before his stoicism – he had not growled the smallest grunt that day. Subsequently, he had amused to circulate a rumour that the Horned Rat personally watched him, and only his own blades were able to kill him.

Tweezil was therefore the bogeyman of Brissuc, whom all feared in silence. Even Vellux was a little afraid of Master Assassin, without daring to confess. He had used his services several times, in exchange of some warpstone chips. He even had esteem and respect for the little black Skaven. Unlike Soum or Skilit, Tweezil had no brains eaten by unhealthy impulses. He killed only by necessity, duty or contract, without hurting his target more than necessary, and never made outrageous display of his talent. No gratuitous cruelty in his actions, not inconsistent behaviour of grandiloquent speech... Tweezil went always to the essential, whether with his tongue or with one of his weapons.

Vellux insisted to receive Tweezil within his territory, and not in the district of Clan Eshin. No question for him to move into this den where the silent death lurked in every corner, ready to pounce and mow his life at any time. Moreover, apart from the disciples of the Master Assassin, no wise Skaven went to this area of the colony voluntarily.

And therefore Tweezil entered, took out his maps and unrolled them on the desk of the laboratory.

- So, Master Assassin?

- My spies-spies have done an excellent job, supreme sublime tasty and friendly superiority. They identified concentrations of men-things men rotten by weird-things.

- How much?

Tweezil put several times his finger on the map.

- There are here, here and here. We saw mainly in this large village in the middle of these hills. We especially noticed that others are joining them.

- Anything else?

- Of course, undisputed master of life of Brissuc Skaven. In this very specific point, there are nothing but men-things with signs of weird-things. Some with four eyes, some with three hind legs, and lots of other things like that. Weird-men-things, in fact.

- "Weird-men-things"... Vellux repeated thoughtfully.

- There were large and small. Males and females.

- And so, all gathered at the same place?

- Yes, your supremely intelligent and observant magnificence. If they are there, it is because their leader will join them. Or maybe he's already there, at this hour?

- Karkadourian... murmured the Grey Seer through his gritted teeth. I'll have his skin!

- In my opinion, illustrate grandeur mouth of the Horned Rat, we should...

Vellux lifted a hand aggressively.

- Shut up, Master Assassin! It's my decision! You are my eyes, but I am the brain-brain!

Tweezil didn't reply. He didn't take offence neither. He wasn't even surprised. He had foreseen the reaction of the leader of the colony. The latter ordered:

- Dismiss, now. I have to prepare an assault. It is time to put an end once and for all with this accursed sorcerer!

The Master Assassin bowed without a word and backed toward the door. Vellux wouldn't however take the risk of upsetting the chief of Eshin assassins in dismissing him too harshly. He said:

- You did a good job. Go to the nursery and choose a breeder. You can stay with it until the first office to the Horned Rat tomorrow!

- Thank you, thank you a thousand times, o our master whose intelligence is only surpassed by his audacity!

Tweezil left the laboratory. While walking in a corridor, he heard again the voice of the White Skaven out of his cabinet and hailing four of his cronies.

- You, you, you and you! Fetch the Fangleader Furghân, Master Warlock Engineer, Master Mutator Skilit and Deacon Soum! It is finally the right time to prove that we are the lords of the surface!

Tweezil thought about what he had said to the Grey Seer... and what he didn't had time to explain. His smile creased into a grin cruel.

_Who told you it is the right time, you triple dummy?_

In the deepest place of the whole Pestilens district, there was a large circular cellar where only a few Skaven were allowed to enter. The Plague Deacon, of course, but also his most devoted servants, and those he took as apprentices in the exercise of the Plague Magic. This pit, remnant of a very old building made by some people disappeared before the installation of Humans in the county, was dedicated to performing dark rituals known by Plague Priests and Deacons only. Two Skaven separated by more than a dozen seasonal cycles faced each other. The smallest of them kept his head down, while the other, his hump making him appear even larger than he was, was watching carefully the cold and wet paving of the room.

Deacon Soum was seized with a violent and noisy cough. Turning his back on his apprentice, he slightly lifted his cut into an old canvas bag hood, and spat something soft and bulbous to the ground. Then he rose, and said in a slow and gentle voice:

- Well, the concoctions are ready, the two silver globes in the sky are at their highest at this time-time, and you have well marked in the diagram. We can begin the ceremony.

Moly wagged in impatience, with a hint of anxiety. He had spent two hours to prepare a new potion, and paint on the floor a complicated sketch with a circle around which several complex formulas were written. Soum was about to help him to accomplish an important enchantment: a ritual where he would seal the union between him and the Plague aspect of the Horned Rat. He sat in the middle of the circle. He closed his eyes to focus, when the hissing voice of the Deacon told him:

- Take off your dress.

The young cream Skaven turned to his master with a surprised look.

- Why?

- Moly, you're going to accomplish a true communion with our God, for the first-first time in your young life. You must put all the chances on your side, and keep nothing that can obstruct the flow of Plague Magic. Do what I say!

The young Plague Monk swallowed, stood up. He untied the string of his frock, and dropped it on the floor. He picked it up and threw it away.

- It's better, the Deacon whispered in a sweeter voice. You can keep your strips. You're uncovering well before the Horned Rat, he appreciates.

Moly sat cross-legged. He closed his eyes again and concentrated. Soum walked slowly along the outline of the circle, hands clasped.

- Recite the mantra.

The cream Skaven muttered a string of syllables abstruse for the uninitiated. It was an old formula of invocation supposed to honour the Horned Rat. It was difficult, but remaining attentive, he did it without a mistake.

- Good, very good. Continue.

Gradually, Moly felt an unusual sensation. A radiation of heat emanating from his guts irradiated increasingly through his whole being. But this feeling turned into a long shudder when he heard again the voice of Deacon, who had approached.

- You're feeling this energy, don't you? Don't resist. Let it flow in you.

Moly began to tremble, his glands expressed a rising fear. He continued relentlessly to recite the formula, in a mumbling tone. Suddenly he opened his eyes and held his breath as he felt the icy touch of Soum's fingers on his left shoulder. His heart began to beat twice louder. He heard the Deacon whisper in his ear:

- Yes... yes! It's pleasant-pleasant. So nice...

The Deacon had now his both paws resting on his disciple. One gently caressed his left flank, up and down on his chest. Moly felt the other one swaying on his right thigh from front to back, before slipping gradually on his crotch...

- NO!

The young cream Skaven jumped up and turned around. By reflex, he grabbed with a hand the canvas bag that covered the head of the Deacon and firmly pushed the old ratman with the other. Soum fell back with a short squeal. Moly straightened to his full height, panting, enraged, trembling in every limb. He threw the hood down and raised his hands, ready to strangle his senior, as he saw something that stopped him.

The Plague Deacon stood up slowly, with a little laugh, a laugh that amplified as the terror appeared more clearly on the face of the Monk.

- You... you're not...

- Indeed.

- You're not even... a Skaven!

- Of course I am!

The poor Moly was not sure. The Deacon had no face. His head was a skull. Neither fur, nor flesh, nor cartilage. Nothing but cracked and blackened by rot bones. Only necrotic fragments survived by here and there, which hung loosely his scalp and his pierced ears. Some decrepit muscles kept up his black by moisture tongue and his remaining eye, which seemed almost too big for his orbit. The yellowish eyeball rolled frantically, and the jaw snapped while the hissing voice replied:

- If a Pestilens reaches a certain age, rot eventually kills him... unless he has a sufficient control on the powers of the Plague to turn this sentence into a mean of prolonging his life. Skrolk succeeded. I shall succeed too. I already lived longer than many Skaven!

Moly sprang back, his back pressed against the wall, and stood transfixed by the repulsive apparition. Soum dragged to the small holed bag, and picked it up without taking his eyes off his disciple.

- Look at me, Moly. In some seasonal cycles, you die, or you become like me.

- No!

- Since the moment I've held you for the first time in my hands the day you were born, it was written. You drank milk mixed with my blood, you slept in the garbage, and you meditate regularly in a tank with vermin carrying diseases swarming. Look at you! You are condemned to follow me.

- Never-never! The Horned Rat has made me stronger...!

- What you think! The rot has already grazed your beautiful-beautiful body, hasn't it? You must learn to control my magic, otherwise the disease will devour you! Trust me. Am I not a worthy servant of the Horned Rat?

And the Deacon had a sneer frightening enough to scare a Verminlord. This was too much for the poor cream Skaven. He jumped out of the sanctuary, and fled at full gallop. He heard the cries of Deacon echoing through the tunnels.

- You belong to me, Moly of Clan Pestilens! You shall never escape from me!

The abominable laughter which followed this threat didn't leave the ears of the young Monk.

Diassyon of Clan Skryre, using his claw gloves, climbed the nearest tree, sat on a limb, and looked at the show. The silvery light of the two moons diffused on the surrounding mist. The young Warlock Engineer knew menthings were afraid of the night and fog. So it was a perfect weather to start.

Forces of the Brissuc colony, if not all gathered, presented still an impressive picture. Accordance with the instructions of Grey Seer Vellux, each of the four major clan chiefs except Tweezil, plus Fangleader Furghân, had provided a third of his Clanrats and elite troops. The command of the horde had befallen to the Stormvermin leader. His bass voice could regularly be heard as he bellowed orders.

The brown Skaven swept with a gaze the crowd sprawling beneath his feet. Obviously, the Skaven were not out from the small hole onto the top of the hill overlooking Niklasweiler, but had borrowed a long underground tunnel passing through a cave and debouched directly to the outside, in the middle of the forest. The ratmen had been able to get out without attracting the attention of men-things. And now they were ready to go back to the village where Aescos Karkadourian's creatures were hiding, reversing any obstacle on their path.

Frontline stood the slaves, nearly one hundred Skaven. They weren't part of any clan, neither major nor minor. All had their left ear cut off, as their citizenship. They were unhealthy because of lack of food, and their only purpose was to take the first hits. They weren't expected to have another use. Moreover, they were well aware of it, and each battle was for them the prospect of certain, and fortunately fast death. Some eagerly awaited their deliverance, others feared for their life, like all Skaven.

Behind them, Stormvermin conducted by Furghân constituted a compact mass of flexible and strong muscles under a heap of black fur. They were thirty, all much bigger and stronger than any man-thing. Fangleader Furghân did everything to appear as the largest and snarling of all, and thus maintain his authority. It was not so hard to do, Black Skaven tended to be naturally more disciplined and less vindictive than the others. Chitik was at the forefront alongside his two closest comrades, Briach and Rool. Each was equipped with his best weapon – Chitik had finally adopted the two-handed wooden mallet, both light and efficient in his paws.

Then came the unit of Clan Moulder ratmen. They were only a dozen individuals, but considered sufficient. Ten trainers could handle swarms of vermin. Slaves were pulling for them two carts. On the first, they had piled boxes in which quantities of rats as big as beavers were furiously squeaking. The second carriage was quite a large cage on wheels. The young Warlock Engineer distinguished very disturbing four silhouettes. Master Mutator Skilit had granted his two best elements the privilege of being responsible for two Ogres rats each. The four war machines of flesh and blood were placidly installed in the cage, without any reaction.

The next group was consisted with Plague Monks. The Pestilens, ever more numerous, were those with the greatest number of warriors to send to slaughter, for the greatest glory of the Horned Rat. They were about forty young Monks. All wore green homespun, indicating their status of novice. This battle was an opportunity for everyone to prove they were worthy of being recognised as adults in the colony... at least those who would come back alive. One of them was wearing a purple dress, and carried on his back a curious instrument, a spiked ball chained to a long wooden handle. The head of this scourge was hollow. The brown Skaven knew it was the tool of the Censer Bearers, the most ferocious fighters of Clan Pestilens. Before a fight, the bearer burned there special incense that put him rapidly into a destructive hysteria and poisoned his enemies around. This Bearer – called Thâthyn – commanded this unit, and transmitted Furghân's orders without the latter would need to infect too much his nose before the Monks.

Finally, at the last line, the few Clan Skryre Warlock Engineers under his direction were sneering. They were a dozen. Six of them were charged with warpfire throwers, by groups of two – one to hold the flame throwing cone, the other to carry the barrel containing the fuel. Two others were armed with a long warplock jezzail, the barrel was so long that a fellow had to hold it on his shoulder. Finally, each of the last two Warlock Engineers was equipped with an impressive gear: a canister containing air under pressure, connected to a helmet that completely covered their head. They wore to their belt a bag tightly closed and padded containing poison gas globes, and worried less than other the effects of lethal clouds with their equipment. Diassyon didn't like so much the tools of globadiers. He chose to specialize in ranged combat, and never parted from his personal telescope-equipped rifle, which he was very proud.

Still sitting on the branch, the young brown Skaven felt a little bitterness growing up in his mouth. He would have liked to borrow one of the war machines of the colony, but the Master Engineer Mabrukk had not given him permission. War machines built after the recent request of the Council of Thirteen were brand new, and the Chief Skryre didn't want to risk losing them too fast.

- Come on, you bunch of good for nothing! Furghân ordered. Forward!

Diassyon ran nimbly down from his perch and returned among the Skaven. He chose the easy way, and climbed the back of the Moulder carriage containing the giant rats. As leader of Skryre, nobody in the horde had the right to challenge this privilege, not even Furghân.

The whole procession set in motion, and progressed painfully and loudly between the trees. The young Warlock Engineer laid full length, leaned against a crate, folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. While being lulled by the movement of the vehicle, he visualized in his semi-sleep new ideas of destructive inventions.

He opened his eyes of a sudden, after an indefinable time. The procession made its first stop in a large clearing. He listened, and heard rumours. Apparently, men-things and beast-things had fought. There were only corpses. The Fangleader ordered:

- Collect and eat-guzzle! Let us strength!

Diassyon felt his stomach grumble. He sat up, looked around him, seeking his older brother. Suddenly, a very nasty smell infected his nostrils. He looked down and saw a Plague Monk at the foot of the carriage. This view made him immediately angry.

- What do you want? Leave me alone!

The hooded raised his hand, and a voice whispered:

- Diassyon... it's me!

- Moly? asked the brown Skaven, his left eye staring in surprise.

The Plague Monk raised his head, and the Warlock Engineer recognised the morphology of his face and his smell. He was both surprised and happy.

- I thought you had to stay with your master?

- Something… happened.

Diassyon felt a sharp crack in the voice of his little brother. He noticed something else equally troubling.

- Why are you wearing a novice dress?

- I had to steal it. Fetch Chitik, I must talk to both of you.

The brown Skaven jumped down the chariot. The cream Skaven stated:

- Meet me behind the big tree there. I must speak to you discreetly!

Diassyon hastened to join Chitik, and invited him to follow him with a small gesture. A minute later, the three Skaven were gathered in secret. The Stormvermin seemed as surprised.

- Moly! You came!

- Uh... Well...

- Yes, Moly! The brown Skaven said. I'm glad-glad to see you, but Thâthyn told me Soum needed you?

It was then that the Skryre noticed that his younger brother looked more uncomfortable than usually. The Black Skaven realised this in turn.

- He doesn't look very reassured...

- Are you kidding me! Look at his eyes!

- He's trembling all over, too!

Diassyon tilted his head back and joints:

- Moly... what happened?

- The Deacon… the Deacon ...

- Well what, the Deacon?

Moly couldn't stand it more. The pressure generated by the terror was too much for his nerve. He burst into tears, and told while crying the horrible scene his master played to him.

- Now, I'm lost-lost! I saw Soum's true face! If I don't crawl before him, presenting my rump, he'll slowly tear my guts off!

Chitik felt his glands spraying a rising anger and he growled:

- I'll grind his bones and crush his rotten brain between my fists!

- No, no, no! Diassyon exclaimed, raising his hand.

The eyes of the Black Skaven were dilated in rage.

- Whoever touches one of my brothers dies!

- Not him! Not like that!

- I don't want to abandon Moly!

- Me neither, me neither! But Soum is not a simple Skaven!

Moly was huddled against the tree trunk, and shivered nervously. The features of the Black Skaven twisted in hatred slowly relaxed. Diassyon continued:

- If he was a normal Skaven, I would devour his lungs with you with pleasure, but we're talking about Plague Deacon Soum, the most powerful Skaven after Vellux! He can unleash the Plague magic! If he can walk and talk despite his condition, his magic must be very strong-terrible!

- In addition... if you try to waste him, he'll make you die by pain-pain, and spread disease in your lair!

Chitik growled, annoyed. His two younger brothers were yet right.

- I won't let you in trouble!

- We won't, Chitik! Moly, you are our brother, we must help you!

The cream Skaven heaved a sigh of relief.

- I... I knew blood ties exist. What to do then?

The Warlock Engineer scratched his head, and didn't have to think long.

- For now, you stay with other Pestilens. After the battle, we go back to the colony. You stay hidden outside. We'll find a small hole where you can expect for us. Chitik, can you bring him to eat?

- I'll protect you! said firmly the Stormvermin.

- Okay. Or no, I have a better idea: after the battle, you will leave on your side, both of you. Nobody must see you.

- So, they would believe us dead, and don't look for us! Chitik understood.

- Yes! And for me… The Deacon has a powerful magic, but no magic will put him away from my bullets! I'll shoot him without approaching him, and I'll pick you up. We'll say, in fact, you would have managed to escape.

He turned to the Plague Monk.

- What do you think about it, Moly?

The Pestilens murmured:

- You can really kill... the Deacon?

Unlike Psody who had a link of fear and admiration towards Vellux, Moly had never loved his own master. He rejoiced at the idea of seeing him dead, but feared for the life of the Skryre. The latter had a disturbing smile.

- Trust me.

- So I think... I think it's good.

- Me too, added the Black Skaven.

- Perfect!

The three Skaven heard the distant voice shout Furghân yet. Chitik growled:

- I must go back, Furghân will get angry, otherwise.

The Stormvermin walked away with no hurry. Diassyon sat quietly near the Plague Monk.

- Do you feel better?

- A few...

- Was this the first time the Deacon did it?

- No... He already pawed my buttocks.

The Skaven Brown gave a little sigh, and slowly stretched his hand towards the cream Skaven. The latter realised it.

- Don't, he whispered, trembling.

- Don't worry.

Diassyon put his fingers gently on the shoulder of his brother, on a strip of tissue less stained. Moly was about to back, but he suddenly experienced a sensation he had never felt. It was a soothing wave, beneficent warmth, which warmed his icy skin. Nothing in common with Soum's unhealthy lust. Moly felt his mouth under his protective strips creasing into a smile of bliss. For the first time in his life, someone put his hand on him, without violence or contempt. It was only benevolence, and it was nice. Diassyon murmured:

- Everything will be fine. Promised-promised.

The Warlock Engineer remained for a few moments, as if to communicate his own energy to the Plague Monk, then he stepped back arm.

- Come on, the convoy is restarting.

Moly sniffed once more, then both joined the rest of the troop.


	14. The City of Lights

_Psody was attached to the stone wall of the temple of cool-things. Before him stood the tall and thin Grey Seer the young White Skaven recognised as Thanquol. He was carrying a large wooden mallet._

- _Master Thanquol... Psody ventured._

_Thanquol, the famous Grey Seer responsible for the Great Invasion of Nuln murmured in a terrible voice:_

- _You know who I am. You know what I can do. You know what I want._

- _No! Uh... Yes! But... No!_

- _You're a chosen one of the Horned Rat. You were born to serve him according to his desires._

- _His desires... not yours! bravely replied the young ratman._

- _What about mine? asked a honeyed voice._

_He then felt long fingers caress his chin. He turned his head and saw Vellux beside him, looking at him with sympathy... or a deeper feeling. But he was not fooled._

- _You... you killed me!_

- _This is Klur who planted his blade into your back._

- _On your order!_

- _This is true, but I regret it. I underestimated your strength of character. And now I see that it was a mistake._

- _Liar!_

- _Oh, Psody! After all these years, you doubt my word?_

_Psody hissed between his teeth. Vellux walked away a few steps. Thanquol ordered sternly:_

- _Kill Gotrek and Felix!_

- _No! Psody replied boldly._

- _You are under our command, you must obey us! You have earned the trust of this hellish man-thing and this orange-crested worm, I order you to punish-punish them, as they deserve!_

- _Never! Only sir Jaeger can help me understand!_

_The tall White Skaven raised his mallet and struck the left leg of the prisoner. Psody screamed as he heard a terrible crash and felt the terrible consistently pain. Vellux looked sorry._

- _You have an extraordinary potential, Psody. The Horned Rat has placed great hopes in you! Don't waste them stupidly with these men-things. Men-things are really not worthy to be heard!_

- _Felix is not a liar like you!_

- _Are you sure?_

- _He has something__ you'll never have! Neither you, nor you, Thanquol!_

_Thanquol__ crushed Psody's right arm, at the elbow. The young ratman thought he would break his vocal cords by shouting._

- _Useless,__ Vellux. He's too stubborn._

- _Master__ Thanquol, I know he can see!_

- _But not according to__ our will. And not according to the opinion of the Council of Thirteen._

_Thanquol__ raised his weapon again. Vellux panicked:_

- _This is your last__ chance, Psody! If you kill these two wretches, you will earn our forgiveness! You can come back to Brissuc, take your place at my side, and I can answer all your questions. I promise._

- _Oh yeah?__ So... answer this: who is this White Skaven who was sentenced by cold-things?_

_Vellux__ widened his eyes, then made a grimace of disgust. He turned to the other Grey Seer, and gave a little nod of negation. In a hoarse yell, Thanquol socked a heavy blow on the head of the young ratman._

Psody woke up suddenly, with a cry of fear. All around him, it was dark, everything was moving, and the air was difficult to breathe. It took him a few seconds to remember the situation. He was no longer in the Gottliebschloss dungeon, but in a cage covered by boards, wooden plates, pieces of cloth, hidden in the floor of a large freight chariot.

- Everything all right in there? asked the voice of Romulus

- Err… Yes, the White Skaven said. Just a nightmare. Finished.

- Cheer up, we're almost arrived.

- Sorry if I upset you...

- Don't worry; it's relaxing to be with you. We had to whack your predecessors with drugs to prevent them screaming all the way long!

- Yet avoid doing that anytime, Jaeger suggested. For this time it was lucky there was nobody. But if a guard hears you, we are all ripe for the prison, and you for the slaughterhouse!

Psody didn't reply. Could he control his sleep? He decided not to think about it. Anyway, he had enough sleep. He sat more comfortably – thankfully, the box was large enough to let room for his horns – and waited, trying to empty his mind.

Felix Jaeger was sat in the front of the vehicle and held the reins. Prior Romulus was at his side, and Gotrek was lying on the roof of the chariot. The horses moved slowly, but didn't seem upset by the smell of their particular cargo. The poet, however, was not very reassured.

- You say that it always well done?

- Yes, sir Jaeger. Skaven were stunned by meatballs seasoned with powerful sedatives. Hey, that was it, or it was so noisy it frightened the horses, and we could hear it hundreds of yards around! The first time we miscalculated the dose, it died.

- Sure, this one stands still. Ah! There's no place like home!

The purpose of the convoy was in sight. Already, carts, horses and pedestrians were more and more numerous. Romulus asked:

- Can we stop for a few moments? We need to give some instructions to our guest.

Jaeger pulled on the reins, and the horses stopped. On the carriage, Gotrek rose, stretched and yawned loudly, and jumped down.

- I can't wait for a good beer! I'm warning you, manling, when we have put this rat in its niche, we empty a whole tavern!

- I promise, Gotrek.

The poet leaned toward the cage. He cleared the upper part, exposing the hatch.

- We're about to enter the city Psody.

- Ah! Good news!

- Do you want some water?

- I do. And... can you pass me the pot?

Jaeger opened the small trap, and the hand of the White Skaven appeared. The Human gave him a gourd and the cast-iron dish. He descended the carriage, and joined the Prior who was stretching his legs.

- I did a lot of unusual things in my life, many were considered heretics, but _that_… is beyond everything!

- Once we are in Altdorf, you can leave whenever you want, master Jaeger. You know our goal, you take risks at this time, to this point, it won't make any difference.

- I know, but this little ratman intrigues me. I didn't think I would say it, but his story touched me. I'd like to learn more about him.

- From what I've seen, I'm sure he's much less evil than the others. He's very young, he can't be mind-twisted enough to dupe us. I really believe he can provide us answers, and he is sincere.

- May Sigmar give you reason, prior!

The two men departed to the cart.

- Have you finished?

Jaeger saw the cast-iron pot up. He took it, closed the hatch, and went back down the carriage to empty it into the ditch. Then he saw something that caught his attention a few moments. He returned to the chariot.

- Psody?

- Yes?

- I'll open the hatch a little more. Move your head out and look straight ahead.

The Human slid the flap, and the head of the young White Skaven came slowly. His eyes sparkled, and he stayed speechless.

- Wow! What… is it?

- Behold Altdorf, my hometown.

Before the chariot, the path down to a valley where a gigantic walled city unfurled. It seemed really huge and teeming with activity. Many plumes of smoke exited out of chimneys, slates and tiles of all colours created a dazzling but not garish patchwork. Some buildings were distinguished by their size and shape. A river crossed the city from side to side.

- How great!

- Indeed! It is the largest city of the Empire, and probably one of the largest ever built by Humans.

- It is even bigger than Marienburg!

- Oh, you went to Marienburg?

- This is where I knew where to find you.

The poet had a slight chill in realising the effective of Under-Empire informant networks. The little ratman then exclaimed:

- Oh! What's this big building with the dome?

- This is the Great Temple of Sigmar, Psody. In case of you don't know, Sigmar is our main god, Jaeger explained. It would be wiser not to go to the temple if you don't want to end your life on a grill!

- There will be several rules to follow during your sojourn in Altdorf, Psody, added Romulus. To begin with, we'll put you in a fitted cell. You must never move alone, without the express consent of the occupant or myself. If you try to escape, we'll have to cover you with chains. The owner has decided to trust you, you must not betray that trust, otherwise everything will be broken.

- Uh... right.

- I know everything will be fine. I am confident. Another thing, while I think: you must never use magic, nor stand before an imperial mage. These people are not so loved. They are known to be needed to fight against the enemies of the Empire, but they inspire fear.

- Oh yeah? In Skaven, sorcerers scare-scare, but here too?

- Generally they're distant individuals, proud and jealous of their powers and mysteries that result. They cann't stand competition. If a mage would meet you, be sure he would immediately denounce you!

- Well, we have to go, said Jaeger.

Psody nodded, understanding what the Human meant. He looked one last time to Altdorf, and sat in the cage. Romulus closed the hatch.

- Come on, hang on, we're almost there. But from now on, you must not utter a single word until we open the cage. We'll go to the middle of the main streets. Normally, no one should feel your smell or hear you breathing. Not any word. Right?

- Right.

- We'll have to go through several guard posts, continued the prior, to the attention of the other two accomplices. Normally, everything should be fine. Our coverage has always worked, and, this time, we don't have the risk of having the "cargo" screaming.

- Don't forget our common security depends on you, ratling! Gotrek grumbled. If you put us in trouble, I kill you myself! Got it?

- Got it... the White Skaven replied in a tiny voice.

Throughout the next hour, Psody had for only horizon the bottom of the box, but his hearing and sense of smell were assailed by a multitude of new sensations. The more he imagined the chariot approaching the city, the more he heard voices. Mostly Human. He grabbed snatches of conversation on climate change, rising taxes, he perceived a beginning of dispute between two commoners on a poorly arranged display, he heard a few words praising the beauty of a woman spoke with passion, and his ears winced with the noise of hooves flapping the cobblestones. And his nose described the situations as clearly as if he was walking on foot in the middle of the crowd. Perfumes abounded. Fresh fruit, sweat, manure, water, sewer (a so familiar smell), animals of all kinds...

Many times, the chariot stopped and the little ratman heard men asking with authority a permit. Each time, the prior Romulus declined his identity, and the unknown men invited Jaeger to continue his way in a reassured voice. The last stop was longer because the prior needed to show a seal to pass the guard. Psody realised they were in the neighbourhood a most influential people by listening to the conversation between the poet and the prior.

- Your friend lives near the Imperial Palace?

- Indeed, he was born in an old noble family. He has no title, but doesn't care, he has still money.

- And what does he do?

- He's a merchant. He exports merchandises to Estalia, Bretonnia, and Tilea, and imports other products from these countries.

- My father was a businessman, and my brother took the family torch. I wonder if they have already had the occasion to meet?

- Your family is in trading business?

- Mainly tissues and wool.

- And you've never participated in the family business?

Here, Jaeger waited a while before answering:

- This is a painful subject, prior.

- I understand, no need to say more. I apologize. Turn left, it's here.

The chariot continued on his way, stopped while a door was open, and finally stopped completely.

- We're finally here.

- What a journey, manling! How thirsty!

- Ah, here is our host.

A deep voice, a little gruff but enthusiastic exclaimed:

- Romulus, my friend!

- Hello, Ludwig!

- So, you have a good trip?

- Excellent, thank you.

- And here is the famous Felix Jaeger, and sir Gotrek Gurnisson! It is a great honour to welcome you to my home!

- The honour is mine, my lord, said Jaeger.

Gotrek said nothing, he just burped. The gruff voice commanded:

- Bring him in the secure room.

Several pairs of hands lifted the box and carried it with difficulty. Psody didn't dare say a word, and gritted his teeth supporting the bumps somehow. He settled firmly in the corner of the box.

- Well, Romulus, tell me a little about our new host.

- Well, you might be surprised!

The little White Skaven didn't hear the rest of the conversation. He understood that he was carried down along a slope to the lower floor of a building. Some rattling door opening, and then the box was placed on a hard floor, and moved no more.

Psody heard the holders:

- Sure it is alive, there?

- Probably, or we wouldn't have all this trouble.

- Yeah, I hear him breathing.

The young ratman jumped, and held his breath. The second carrier growled:

- I hope he won't begrime the whole place! The last time I had to brush for three days just for the piss!

- Careful, he might hear you.

Several pairs of boots echoed in the room.

- Maybe I should be open to him, master? Jaeger suggested. I am the one whom he trusts the most, he better be greeted by a familiar face?

- Do it.

The White Skaven distinguished the shadow of the poet in the gaps between the slats of the crate. The latter, leaning forward, triturated the lock, turned the key. The side panel swung, and the poet said in an involving tone:

- You can go out, now.

With caution, Psody extricated himself from the cage on all fours, then he stood up and looked at the situation. He was in a large room well lit by different ventilators. Before him stood Gotrek, Jaeger, Romulus and a third Human.

This one was truly remarkable. Physically, he was already impressive. Very huge, more than was Gottlieb, and also very large. His stoutness, his ruddy complexion reflected his love for good food, but few strong muscles were guessed yet under the skin of his arms and shoulders. His hair was brown, auburn pulling, and tied on his neck. He had a round head and a large moustache under his broke snub nose. He wore heavy fabrics clothes, set with numerous embroidered collar brilliant decorations, and his stubby fingers were covered with rings set with coloured gemstones. He really seemed gigantic compared to the young ratman. He gestured towards the single door.

- Thank you, gentlemen, dismiss.

He was the personage who had received the convoy, with his gruff and playful tone. Four servants transported outside the cage out of the room. The richly dressed Human turned to Psody.

- Good evening, my young friend. Welcome to my home. I am Ludwig Hieronymus Albrecht Steiner von Kekesfalva, and I am very happy to meet you.

What a shock for the White Skaven, who had never seen a Human talk to him so cordially.

- Uh... thank you... lord... how?

- Steiner. Ludwig Steiner will be enough. Sorry to have imposed you this trip under these conditions, but you knew it was the only way to bring you here without too much risk for all of us.

- Yes, of course, lord Steiner.

- He didn't complain once during the whole journey, specified Romulus.

- Very good! I'm sure we can have a civilised relationship. Note like with the others.

Once again, Psody felt something he had never. He was facing a character that seemed important in the Human society. He had expected to find a severe, bitter and arrogant individual, much like his former master. However, a sort of majesty emanated from that man, something indefinable that drove to respect him unconditionally, while having the desire to make him happy. Like with Lady Katel, stronger. Sir Steiner certainly represented an authority, but a benevolent authority, not the tyranny embodied by Vellux. So it was with humility he answered, with his hands behind his back as a shy child:

- I... I promise I'll behave myself well.

- I'm sure. Prior Romulus told me a little about yourself and your stay in Gottliebschloss. You know, I put a lot of hopes in you for learning about the Skaven.

- I'll tell you, if it doesn't put my life in danger-danger.

- I can assure you as long as you respect our rules, you'll be treated with dignity and respect. According to my friend, you are an intelligent and sensitive being, it is normal to be so considered. If you permit, we'll begin our study tomorrow morning. And if you help me to continue my research, I'll help you continue your own. Romulus told me you have your problems, but you can't talk about it. I hope we can arrange it in a way that suits you. In the meantime, we'll let you rest. I agree that this place is not the palace of the Emperor, but we hope this will be liveable enough.

- This is really good, my lord. I've never hade a so great bedroom! There are protection runes around this room, I feel them.

- Well, I should still keep a minimum precaution, don't you think? I have a good feeling about you, but it's better to wait a bit before fully trust you. In fact, it will be up to you to prove that you are a good person, and earn that trust. This will be part of the rules of staying at Altdorf, in my domain. Act as a Human, I see you as a Human. Behave like a beast, and I will treat you like a beast. And the more you comport one side or the other, the more you receive the appropriate treatment. Is that understood?

Steiner spoke in a calm but firm tone. This baffled a little the young Skaven.

- Uh ... well understood, my lord.

- This is also for people who live in my area I do this, Steiner continued in a softer voice. I don't want them to be too much afraid of you. They have seen other people of your kind, but you are the first White Skaven to come here, and it worries them a few. In addition, I can't let you move anywhere for now and take the chance to let you do stupid things. For the safety of all, you have to stay in this room for some time.

- Right, Psody replied, bowing his head.

- Perfect.

Jaeger raised his hand.

- Sir Steiner, Gotrek and I have to take leave.

- Yep! I need to rinse my throat!

Psody felt his heart tightening.

- You... you leave me?

The poet squatted, to be at the same height of the little ratman, and said in a reassuring voice:

- I have some business to attend, I'll enjoy my stay in Altdorf. Look, don't cry, I'm sure you'll be fine here. You'll spend a few days with the prior and master Steiner, you'll work and discuss with them, between scholar men, it will probably do you much good. And during that time, there will be not a little angry voice inside you whispering to attack me! I won't abandon you. I'll return in a few days, a week latest.

- You... promise?

- I don't know how it works for Skaven, but here, trust works both ways. Until now, you have played the game, I engage to do the same thing; I'll see how it goes for you, I promise you. And then, I'm interested, here! I'm curious to know more about all of this.

- I... right.

Jaeger friendly patted the shoulder of the little ratman.

- Come on, just a week, no more. Be kind, do everything asked to you as it doesn't indispose you, and all will be well.

Psody sniffed and nodded without saying a word. Ludwig Steiner said:

- Well, it's getting late, we'll let you rest. When you wake up tomorrow morning, knock on the door to prevent the guards, I'll join you later. In the meantime, I wish you spend a good night.

The poet rose, the four men withdrew one after another by releasing the lanterns, the Dwarf in last, and the heavy door closed. The lock clicked loudly. The room was now in the dark, lit only by the light of a lamp outside passing through the highest vent. It was more than enough for the eyes of the ratman who scanned the place where he was.

The White Skaven realised he was not in an empty room: a table and a chair, an unbreakable steel chamber pot, and a bed with a blanket had been left for him. Nothing in the ceiling that allows to hang himself with the sheets, and anyway, Psody had no more the slightest desire to die. He was too curious to see how events would turn out.

_Well, as long as I'm alive-alive, things can only get better!_

Psody stretched, yawned, and scratched his back. He saw on the table a wooden plate with a mountain of cheese pieces, all different. His eyes began to shine, while saliva rose to his taste. With one bound he was on the chair. He took a gruyere, opened his mouth as widely as he could, getting ready to shove the whole cheese, but he stopped. Slowly, he brought the food to his snout and sniffed, snorted, looking for any poison. Nothing. He did the same with all the other parts. There was definitely not the slightest ounce of any drug. Convinced, he didn't hesitate no more, and sank his teeth into his piece of gruyere.

Within minutes, he had emptied the whole plate. Finally sated, he stroked his belly with satisfaction, leaning on the back of his chair. Then he yawned louder.

_Well! Bedtime._

Looking toward the bed, he saw that the Humans had left for him a nightgown. He stood up, removed his robe, went to his bed, but stopped his movement. He straightened up, sniffed the air emphatically. This time, he felt like a slight odour. Not unpleasant, nor totally unknown. He had even thought he heard something. Like a little chuckle, a difficult contented laugh. But no way to understand what it clearly was. Finally, he shrugged and decided not to think about it. He put the finely embroidered garment. The nice touch of delicate fabric made him shudder with pleasure. He lay in bed, and snuggled under the blanket. He couldn't restrain a sigh of ecstasy. He had never slept in a more comfortable place. It was not long before he plunged into a deep sleep, unaware that, in the small basement drainage window on the side of the cell, close to the ground, two large sparkling eyes were literally devouring him.

The next morning, Psody woke up in good shape. He stood up, stretched, and shook himself. He changed clothes, and knocked at the door. The guard sent his closest colleague fetch the merchant. A few minutes later, the lock clicked, the door opened, and Ludwig Steiner entered with a large leather bag under his arm.

- Hello, young fellow! Good sleep?

- Oh yes, sir!

A servant put on the table a tray with a beautiful loaf of golden brioche, a pitcher of milk and a cup of clay, then placed a wooden chair he held on the other hand before retiring. Psody sat, licking their chops.

- Eat, drink at your convenience, and don't worry for me, I've had my share. If you allow, we will begin our study.

- I'm ready, sir. I must avoid talking with my mouth full, right?

- That's right! replied the merchant, laughing. It's true, I noticed the Skaven tend to eat so fast! Why?

So was the first question Psody had to answer. With good humour, he explained:

- Each meal may be the last one among Skaven. Better eat as much as possible, and fastest!

- There! You've already learned me something!

Steiner moved in turn, picked up out of his bag a piece of paper and writing implements. He noted the date, and the first few words of their conversation. Psody sniffed slightly the brioche loaf and ate a bite.

- Good. Can you tell me about your people, Psody?

- That's why I'm here, my lord. Where to start?

- Well, for example... Before your arrival, in ten years of study, we studied about twelve Skaven. I pass over the fact they were much less cooperative than you, indeed. But we could see they had different characteristics depending on the case. See, for Humans, Skaven are all the same. But I learned to distinguish some differences among them. Colour of hair, morphologies... You know that all Humans are not all the same, don't you?

- Yes... Some are greaer, some with lighter or darker skin, it depends.

- Exactly. Here, look at this.

Steiner placed before the little ratman a large scroll with a drawing of a Skaven. The creature was drawn face, arms and legs spread, with many annotations. All its trunk was split up and down, leaving its organs appear. Nothing surprising for Psody's eyes.

- Our first subject of study, commented Steiner. This specimen...

The Human cleared his throat.

- Psody, I'd like to put things right immediately. Now, when I speak of Skaven, you must not take it personally. I might say unpleasant things about them because they do a lot of harm to the Empire. However, every time I say "Skaven do this", or "Skaven are like that", please, don't take care. If I say something that offends you, don't hesitate to tell me. I don't want to be disrespectful.

- Oh, that's very kind, sir. But... I've learned to see Skaven your way, and now they are monstrous to me.

The small White Skaven saw the front of his interlocutor furrowing with perplexed wrinkles.

- So you reject them as they expelled you... I did not realise how much you must feel alone.

- Oh... it's nothing.

- Do you holding up, my young friend?

- I do, my lord. And don't hesitate to talk about Skaven as you want. Here you are the master-teacher.

- This is not a reason to treat you badly. Well, I was saying, this specimen seems almost ordinary. We didn't observe anything special about it. It had brown fur, a size slightly less than the average for Humans, and couldn't speak reikspiel. In any case, it didn't say anything.

Psody scanned closely the sketch.

- Did he have possessions?

- Only its tunic, breeches stolen from a farmer and a knife.

- So, this is a banal Clanrat. An adult citizen. You have drawn him accurately?

- With as much details as I could.

- Look at his ear there. There are some small marks, you see?

- Yes, indeed. I thought it was injuries.

- In fact, it is a way to identify us. When a Skaven reaches adulthood, he passes a test in which he shows he's able to use what he has learned. If he passes the test, the highest authority of his burrow carves small notches in his left ear.

- And... if he misses?

- He's considered as a useless mouth and is executed, if he survived the ordeal.

The Imperial raised his head.

- I see you passed this test. What was that?

- I... uh...

- Right... Another point: tell me only what you want to. I suppose you've done things that we, Humans, would consider inappropriate. Confidence is knowing when to listen and when not to listen. If you want to talk, don't hesitate, but if you're too embarrassed, I won't insist. In any case, I won't judge you.

- Thank you, my lord.

- Will you tell me what this tattoo on your other ear means?

- Huh? Oh yeah! Of course! This is my link with the Horned Rat.

- What do you mean?

The young ratman stood, and considered himself from head to toe.

- I'm a White Skaven, a chosen of the Horned Rat. I wear his distinctive signs: my white fur and his horns. When a White Skaven comes to the world in a burrow, he's tattooed on the inside of his right ear the position of a group of stars that appear in the sky next night. It's for better link him to our god. Skaven don't really like the clear sky, but this is from the stars the Horned Rat derives his powers and sends them to us to make us stronger.

Steiner placed a second drawing on the table. The little White Skaven wrinkled his muzzle. On paper, he saw the picture sketched a monstrous proportioned Skaven. Shoulders broader even than Gotrek's, huge teeth, hair hard as steel on its back, a powerful musculature composed that being he had no difficulty to recognise.

- This is a rat-ogre. You really managed to carry it to this place?

- No, it was too big. I had to move, my mercenaries hid it in an abandoned farm. I confess that one really impressed me. Usually, the Skaven mistruste me, nothing more. But this creature was... disturbing. Aberrant.

- It is not natural. It's an abomination. Well, you tell me, me too, for Humans. But this one was crafted by a Skaven. Even for us, they are not considered as "normal".

- I've learned your people are divided into "Clans", and one of them excels in the art of flesh shaping.

- You know things, my lord. Clan Moulder manufactures flesh and blood war machines, and the rat-ogre is. This is a Skaven in which has been injected a venom that turns into... this. They are very stupid, need always someone to control them, and in this case, they are very dangerous. Strong-resistant. It must have taken a lot of effort to confine it!

- It was already dead when we picked it up, on a battlefield where Skaven had been spotted. It was discreetly shipped to the farm. It's true that internal organs were rather chaotic.

The little ratman spent a good hour to analyse the drawing and point the modifications made on the rat-ogre. Even without being a Moulder, he could recognise the most obvious changes. He was surprised to see the Human listening to him as no one had ever. The latter didn't question any of his comments. Then he showed a new sketch.

- This one was felt particularly strong. Not as much as the rat-ogre, but it didn't look "manufactured".

- Hmm... according to your notes, it had a completely black coat. That explains it. It was a Black Skaven. They are appointed by the Horned Rat to form our elite troops, which we call "Stormvermin". They are born from a breeder as other Skaven, but are much larger and stronger of birth. When they are adults, they are our most sturdy warriors.

- You can say it. We captured this one when it was injured, but even in this state, six mercenaries were needed to subdue him. A real beast!

- No wonder. Black Skaven are very...

Psody suddenly thought back to his brother Chitik. He stopped and put his hand on his forehead. For a brief moment, he pictured the scene of the capture of the Black Skaven. What if it had been his elder?

- Is something wrong?

- It's... oh, no matter.

And yet, the young White Skaven couldn't help to think:

_He always admired me, he was always ready to defend me, and I've never done anything to thank him. And it is too late._

- Well, we'll stop schemes for now. I would like to learn about White Skaven. I had never seen one before you, not even a corpse. I've only read books.

- They are too proud to be captured, sir Steiner. Generally, they fight with the strongest energy, or attempt to flee if they can.

The White Skaven spoke with many details the condition of the chosen ones of the Horned Rat. Their special status, their privileges, their ability to hear the voice of their god and borrowing his powers. They devoted several hours and interrupted for a meal. Steiner asked:

- A question which might seem a few disturbing...

- Go ahead, I'll answer as best I can.

- -Your horns... are they related to your ability to manipulate magic?

Psody had a little spout.

- No. They are not the cause of my contact with the Horned Rat, but the consequence. One day, my teacher broke one of his horns, but it didn't prevent him from using magic, and with time, it completely restored. Our horns grow up by the will of our God, unlike those of animals. Mine should grow a little longer, until they reach their maximum size within a few years. Depending on White Skaven, they grow faster or slower until the age of about ten years old.

- So they can regenerate, but stop at a certain point, mumbled Steiner writing on parchment. So if someone cut them...?

- I could always make use of Warp magic. In fact, some Skaven who are not white and don't have horns can manipulate this magic their way. Think about the Plague Priests of Clan Pestilens, or Sorcerers of Clan Eshin, who have mastered the enchantments of Cathay – this is how you call the largest country in the far east, isn't it? White Skaven are more receptive to the winds of magic, and it goes through their whole body, not just what they have on their skull. If you really want to hurt me, you would have to rip them off, which would probably cause me quite a headache! Anyway, sir Steiner, I advise you not to damage the horns of a White Skaven.

- Uh? Your god could curse me?

The White Skaven chuckled and explained, coquettishly stroking his horns:

- We, the White Skaven are very proud to show the world the recognition of the Horned Rat that allows us to be like him one bit. Mutilate the horns of a White Skaven is a deadly insult, as the Dwarves that do not support someone touch the beard.

- A symbolic emasculation, in fact, what few people appreciate, to my knowledge.

- A what? asked the little ratman.

The merchant cleared his throat.

- As if someone would cut off your...

- Huh? Oh! Ah... yes.

In the distance, a bell rang two times. Steiner shifted on his chair.

- Oh! I'll have to leave you. Our study has already well begun.

- Well, are you… satisfied?

- Are you joking? In half a day, I learned more than in two years! If we continue on this path, I'm sure our cooperation will be very successful. But we won't work all the day long, will we. First, it is an intellectual activity rather tiring for you, then I have to manage my own business on my side.

The Human arose

- Samuel will bring you your dinner on the stroke of seven. And I'll be back tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, with breakfast. But I have something for you to avoid you spending the rest of the day to turn around and do nothing.

He picked out of his bag a book on which the White Skaven read: "The Empire – general history and geography".

- We buy this book for students entering the university. With that, you should be able to learn at least the essential things of the society of Humans.

- Oh, thank you!

- Do you need something else?

Psody then realised something very annoying.

- Uh... would you... well, it may be too much to ask, but...

- Go on, please.

- Can I... may I have a bucket of water and soap... please? It's been days since I didn't take a bath.

Steiner burst into a loud laugh.

- And besides, he's clean! I bring it down to immediately, with spare clothes!

And the merchant left the cell. The guard locked the door. Psody, alone, sighed relieved. For a first day, it hadn't been too bad.

**Important note to readers:**** once again, you'll have to wait, because I have the ideas, but I haven't written it yet, even in French. Thank you to those who posted comments, this is very encouraging. I'll post soon the next chapters. Thank you for your understanding, and glory to the Horned Rat!**


	15. The Mouse Trap

Furghân's company had moved three nights long, and had torn the earth itself of its passage, such an irresistible wave of fur, teeth and claws. Skaven had ravaged the fields, gutted the woods, slaughtered cattle, and devoured men-things. Two villages were completely destroyed. The Sons of the Horned Rat didn't walk often in open country, but when they took the risk, they didn't do things by half. Blood and bones mingled with mud on their way, and all cultures ended burnt or soiled by the Plague Monks.

When the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon, Furghân ordered the halt designating a place to stop, usually a forest area. There, Skaven stretched animal skins with ropes and spears, and could lie under without suffering too much the warmth of direct sunlight. The most fearful quickly dug a small hole to sleep. Once the large golden disc gone, the horde restarted again in a few minutes. Once they had just invested a large farm after copiously plundered and ravaged it.

The more the Skaven band approached the hiding place of the weird-things, the more the atmosphere was heavy over heads. Disputes between Clanrats were more frequent, and the slaves tried to escape more often. Chitik succeeded calm down them a bit by breaking the back of three of them in front of everyone, but even if they no longer expressed their fears, Diassyon had felt they didn't think less.

Moly, meanwhile, remained behind, and did everything to avoid arousing suspicion. The other Plague Monks, barely out of the Pestilens burrow, didn't know who he really was, and didn't care for him. He missed the presence of his two brothers, but they never lost an opportunity to make him a small sign away, so he knew he was not alone. The idea of escape from his master lightened his heart.

One evening, finally, Furghân stopped the company, and stretched his arm forward.

- Look! The weird-things!

Chitik and Diassyon approached the Fangleader, to consider the situation. Skaven were high on a plateau overlooking a large natural basin, in the middle of which flowed a river. At the centre of the great plain, a large village in which lived probably two or three hundred men-things was visible. Some campfires around indicated the presence of weird-things warriors.

- They seem many, murmured Briach, the oldest Stormvermin.

- Not enough! exclaimed his friend Rool grinning.

- The weird-things will be boiled-mashed! Chitik growled, lifting his huge wooden hammer.

- Furghân approached and asked Rool in a growling voice:

- How many?

Rool's eyes saw better than those of the other Stormvermin, and the chief didn't trust the sense of a not-black Skaven. The Stromvermin narrowed his eyes, and muttered:

- Three or four packs of ten.

The Clawleader pointed an authoritarian finger towards Diassyon.

- You, the nutty one! Go tell your rats to brace themselves, we launch the assault in the next few minutes!

The Warlock Engineer obeyed without a word. He didn't like the Fangleader at all, and refused to show deference to him as his life didn't depend on it. The Stormvermin leader addressed Thâthyn.

- You, the rotten one! Regroup your worms and put them in condition!

The Censer Bearer hastened to harangue his Plague Monks. Young Pestilens gathered as quickly as their hazardous physical condition allowed. Among them, Moly promised not to show the slightest overflow, in order not to be spotted.

- You, the Moulder! Furghân cried. Get out your critters!

Four Packmasters unloaded the crates full of giant rats off the carriage, and the two rat-ogres masters opened the large cage and squeaked orders, snapping their whips to remove the four creatures. Rat-ogres, abruptly arose, roared in surprise and annoyance.

Finally, Furghân thundered toward slaves and Clanrats:

- Now, let's go! The first I see you move back, I crush him! Stormvermin, do the same! We kill-kill men-things and slaughter-gut cowards!

There was a moment of uncertainty during which no one dared utter a syllable. The Fangleader raised his halberd with both hands, and roared:

- Go, Sons of the Horned Rat! Death to men-things!

- Death to men-things! repeated Rool, Briach and Chitik, his three helpers.

- Death to men-things! the Clanrats and slaves said in turn, without much enthusiasm.

And the company went again to the village.

The slaves were the first to arrive at the foot of the hill. They knew the best way to extend their life was to fight, because they had a chance face to the weird-things, and not against the Stormvermin. The weird- things gathered around campfires rose at their approach. Some brandished their weapons at the Skaven approach, others ran to the centre of the village, as to take refuge.

Driven by Clanrats, the slaves clashed the weird-things. A dozen malnourished and unarmed Skaven immediately fell under the furious blows of the snarling and twisted creatures. Most of them were not very different from the men-things, some had a third arm, other goat other more exotic animal legs or, or a pair of horns on their forehead. But none seemed really equipped for combat. No iron armour, only peasant tools as improvised weapons, such as forks, shovels or scythes.

This didn't prevent the weird-things to defend themselves with ferocity. The last rows of Skaven slaves quickly joined the first line and collided in turn the corrupt gang. Other villagers came out hastily from hovels, and threw themselves into the fray.

Some Clanrats were mown down by arrows. Panic gradually gained the company of ratmen. It was then that Stormvermin took action. To give courage to his footmen, Furghân pierced in quick succession with the metal tip of his weapon two slaves. Finally, he stroke the men-things, immediately imitated by his underlings. As usual, Chitik, Briach and Rool, his three lieutenants, gave the example by killing their opponents mercilessly.

Thâthyn; the Censer Bearer, had led his Plague Monks to the village by the side, bypassing the main melee. He wanted to outflank the men-things. He growled impatiently, thinking his company wasn't moving fast enough – with the drugs, malformations and diseases, Pestilens weren't made for racing. When at last they arrived at load bearing, Thâthyn drew from his pocket his tinderbox, and set fire to the warpstone incense nugget in the hollow head of his flail. Immediately a greenish vapour rose and filled the nostrils of the Censer, who immediately became mad with excitement.

- Attack-unleash your wrath! Death to the men-things!

And he hurried to the men-things who, having seen them coming, were now advancing towards them. The Plague Monks followed suit with their leader. An unbearable concert of screeches, squeaks and rales tore the eardrums of the men-things. The Pestilens entered the village, some went straight into the huts to kill the occupants who were hiding there. But three of them fell to the ground, pierced by arrows, before they could cross a door.

A half-dozen of men-things were gathered on the roof of the small temple built in the village centre. They exhibited features specific to mutants: one had three arms, another huge stalked eyes. All six were equipped with bows and quivers full of arrows at the seams and sent murderers traits in all directions. Distraught, Moly spotted a path that zigzagged between buildings, where there was nobody. He ran as fast as possible over a long half-minute, and jumped to hide behind a large pile of logs. He curled up against the wood, muttering a prayer to the Horned Rat. Suddenly he opened his eyes, shocked by something he considered absurd.

Diassyon spotted the group of archers, and had a wicked smile.

- Globadiers! he cried, pointing them.

The two masked Skaven nodded and went out each of their canvas bag a glass globe as big as a Stormvermin fist. They buckled legs simultaneously, stretched their arm back, and threw their crystal ball to their target. The two transparent spheres looped magnificently to the roof of the temple, and broke into a thousand pieces in contact with the tiles. Immediately, a thick greenish smoke gushed with a large whistle. Mutants were all taken from a cough so violent that one of them fell to the ground and broke its neck.

The warplock jezzails crackled and shot down three other archers. It was the turn of the three warpfire throwers to spread death by spitting their sheaves of warpstone green fire. As usual in Skaven, driven crazy by the heat of the action, they didn't make so much the difference between friends and enemies. The Warlock Engineer also ordered them to attack in the direction of the bulk of the crowd, where slaves and Clanrats crammed.

- And do not burn Stormvermin or Plague Monks, or I throw you myself in the large Clan boiler!

Fortunately, he had carefully chosen among the Warlock Engineers six of the most trustworthy, and knew how to be convincing. They followed the instructions without question. Unluckily, a man-thing jumped off a roof in the direction of a binomial, and landed on the Skaven who was carrying the fuel tank. It slashed his throat with a chisel. The ratman toppled on his side. He dragged his partner in his fall, and the pipe connecting the tank to the spray cone broke. The pressurized fuel spurted everywhere, and sprinkled the launcher, the man-thing and two Clanrats. On contact with flames surrounding, it flared up, and the tank exploded in a bang.

Diassyon protected his face, his teeth clenching. The smell of fire warpstone stung his nose and made him sneeze. He slowly defused his eyelids, and saw with relief that the damage was not very serious. The other two warpfire throwers were sufficiently distant from their comrade to avoid the explosion. The brown Skaven congratulated himself for having trained them not to stay too close to one another.

Chitik reduced to mush the head of a man-thing by crushing it with his hammer against the stone wall of a house. He straightened up, ready to do it again, when he stopped. Indeed, there was nothing more to do. The last men-things, the last Mutants laid at the feet of the Skaven, cut to pieces. The battle was over, and the Sons of the Horned Rat had won.

Furghân puffed out his chest and bellowed with all his might:

- Glory to the Horned Rat!

- Glory to the Horned Rat! replied the other, with a real conviction this time.

Under excitement, fists raised, incisors rattled, toes scraped the earth. Furghân felt pride swell his chest. His ear twitched as he heard a shaky voice moaning:

- Chief, Chief! There's mayhem!

Displeased, the Fangleader raised his fist, demanding silence. He turned to the one who had spoken.

- What? What is it?

- Further, there! A odd-strange show, O great and mighty Clawleader!

The compliment softened a little the Black Skaven, but the Censer Bearer spat and snarled:

- Hey, you! I don't recognize you! Who are you?

Thâthyn gestured, and two Plague Monks surrounded the unknown. One of them pulled his hood over his neck, revealing the partially covered with strips head of Moly.

- Well, well... Soum's favourite one! What are you doing here?

- Uh... I...

The Censer came and bumped Moly into a violent shove.

- The Deacon sent you watch me, right?

- No-no, formidable and admirable censer! whined the cream Skaven, falling on his knees.

Chitik and Diassyon had lost nothing of this exchange. They looked at each other briefly and then advanced together. Thâthyn blew in anger.

- What? What do they want from me?

Chitik said nothing, merely raised with one hand his hammer. However, Diassyon, which was the same level as the Censer, ventured to speak.

- Leave him alone, you botched fleabag!

To back the insult, he took out his belt his warplock pistol and aimed Thâthyn with. The latter sighed in nervousness, but moved away from Moly. Other Skaven, little or not at all aware of the bloodline stories between the three brothers, didn't react. Finally, the Stormvermin chief exclaimed:

- Enough-enough! No time to waste with it! Let's see what this "odd-strange show" is. And woe to you if it is for nothing, Pestilens!

Chitik growled again, but said nothing. Rool gave him a small nod of approval. All Skaven followed the Fangleader.

Indeed, the men-things village was larger than it looked. Diassyon counted dozens of houses, some had two floors. Chitik had a light shiver realising that this place was almost as big as Maraksberg, the village where he almost lost his life because of a crossbow bolt. It was also the last time he had seen Psody.

Chitik never had resolved to completely erase of his memory the little White Skaven. Even though he was probably happy alongside the Horned Rat, the great Black Skaven missed him whenever it thought about him. The Stormvermin felt his heart sink, and bit his lower lip. How he would have liked to see his little brother to be proud of him!

Diassyon, meanwhile, was worried too, but not for the same reasons. It was a rather large town with a grain silo, a large basin filled with foamy water, near which several clothes were drying. There was a mill on the other side, a large wooden house where to shelter the animals a little further, and even a building with icons and a small statue of a man-thing with a big hammer in an alcove above the double door.

_A temple of a man-thing god…_

There was no immediate danger, and yet the brown Skaven Brown had a bad feeling. They had to face some men-things and weird- things gathered outside the village, but there were enough houses to accommodate the triple. He did not see the little things-men, either.

_Where are they all?_

That's when he realised a strong odour of carrion tickled his nostrils for some time. Looking up, he had the answer to all his questions.

- That is, Moly stammered, pointing something really, really unusual.

The Skaven procession arrived on the square clear men-things generally left in the middle of each village they built. Here, a mountain of corpses rose to ten feet high. There was bodies of men-things only. Young, old, big, small... Thousands of flies buzzed around this charnel. That's where all the inhabitants are therefore, thought the Skryre head. Furghân ordered:

- Rool! Go take a closer look!

The Black Skaven squeezed between his big paws the handgrip of his long sword. He approached cautiously, and planted the tip of his weapon in a body. The rusted steel sank into the flesh with a sharp clack. Blood flowed from the wound. Rool felt his whiskers vibrate with apprehension. Something was more seriously wrong. The smell, at first. Rool knew well the pleasant scent of men-things blood when it gushed from stumps of limbs severed by his blade. There was something else. A poison? This explained probably why the colour of blood was also shocking in the eyes of the Stormvermin. But then he was about to share his concerns, a hungry Clanrat fell forward on one body.

- Wait, don't...

Too late, the bright-furred young Skaven had already planted his teeth in the bloated carcass. He swallowed loudly a big piece of man-thing leg. A moment later, he found himself on his back, trying to wriggle in the dust with heartrending cries of pain. Something made his belly swelling from inside. He swelled, swelled up to burst in a vicious backfire.

No one moved. Rool murmured:

- Idiot-moron! These me,-things have been poisoned!

Surprise, incomprehension and anxiety hovered over the ratmen. Chitik felt the silence becoming heavier than ever.

- Chief, Chief! Look-watch! yelped a Globadier, his voice muffled by his metal mask.

Behind the pile of rotten meat, the ratmen could see something that made them scream in fear. Three Skaven were there, impaled on thick wooden stakes. Their jaws were clenched in a silent last cry that reflected unprecedented suffering. Furghân ordered:

- Diassyon! Inspect this!

The Skryre obeyed, grumbling. He picked up a stick on the floor, and patted one of the carcasses. As nothing happened, he put the tip of his stick on the belly of the dead Skaven and pressed. There was not the slightest reaction. Diassyon came closer, and his fur bristled slightly.

- Chief! I see something!

- What-what? The Clawleader growled.

- A tattoo.

- A what?

The Warlock Engineer redressed the head of one of the impaled Skaven impaled, and pulled back the fur on his skull. The unfortunate thing had actually a mark printed with blue ink on the skin of his shaved forehead. The Skryre widened his eyes by recognising the symbol of the god of pleasures of weird-things.

- It is the mark of Karkadourian's god!

- Slaanesh! Moly cried, terrified.

Thâthyn slapped the the neck of the young sapprentice to make him shut up. Once again, silence stifled all ears. Diassyon ventured to declare:

- Just as if Karkadourian had left us a message!

The oldest warrior of the horde, Briach, approached the Clawleader.

- Fangleader Furghân! What does it mean?

The Stormvermin head turned to Briach. He trembled, but the old Black Skaven couldn't tell if it was in anger... or something else.

- It means… it's a trap!

The sound of a war horn sounded in the distance, at the top of the highest hill. Rool up at once the head and squeaked:

- Weird things! Lots of weird-things up there!

Furghân squinted and gasped in panic. In fact, an entire line of weird-things stretched on the length of the ridge. The glow of torches appeared among the troops at regular intervals. Moly recognized the smell of fear which obtruded above the Pestilens group rot fragrances. Another horn answered the call, and then a third. Skaven groaned seeing other groups appearing on all the surrounding hills. Chitik, disbelieving, had to go to the obvious: the entire village was now surrounded by a legion of weird-things. Rool more worried when he realized that this time, it was not some under-equipped pedestrian, but formidable armoured warriors, a third of them were on horseback.

The weird-things all tumbled down all the hills, rushing towards the village. Skaven quickly levied their war cries above the din of hooves. The musk of fear mingled with the smell of urine of the most frightened.

- Come on, suckers-morons! Furghân screamed. Knock! Kill! Slay!

Briach lifted up his spear, and went forward, closely followed by Chitik and Rool, and the rest of Stormvermin. But Diassyon noticed with amazement that the Fangleader, instead of leading his fighters to attack, or at least following them, turned and ran at full speed in the opposite direction!

- Hey, Stormvermin! Wait!

It was already too late, the Black Skaven had attained the nearest rank of weird-things and fought furiously. Alas, as the Skryre feared, newcomers were well equipped and knew how to use their weapons.

Diassyon decided to act. He did not drop Chitik. He squeaked order:

- Globadiers, get ready! Warpfire throwers, pump! Warlock jezzails, arm and shoot-down!

Briach's spear pierced the neck of a horse. Chitik crushed the ribs of a warrior in armour, and Rool beheaded a Mutant. Another Stormvermin called:

- Fangleader Furghân? What manoeuvre?

Of course, there was no answer. Chitik heard the surprised exclamations of his comrades as he continued to strike. His eyes widened, and he felt his blood freeze in his veins. He whirled on his heels, and understood with a glance the reality. Furghân was abandoning them. Stroked, he roared:

- Furghân, you coward!

He pushed his comrades to overtake the Fangleader.

- I'll kill you, wretch!

- No, Chitik! yelped Briach by interposing. Weird-things first! We'll take care of him later!

Fortunately, the great Black Skaven didn't lose sight of the urgency of the situation. He paused, took one last glare to Furghân who disappeared from his field of vision by hiding behind a house, and then returned to the attack. He smote his enemies with twice as much resentment, vowing to smash the whole skeleton of the Fangleader bone by bone at the first opportunity. However, he wouldn't have such an opportunity.

Furghân didn't run so far. Something sharp pierced his thigh, causing him to fall, his muzzle in a divot. He got up painfully, and tore in a jerk the crossbow bolt stuck in his flesh. There followed a burning sensation. The Black Skaven growled in surprise realising his leg was melting. Bones, cartilage, muscles crumbled into a thick pasty liquid, leaving a tentacle atrophied. Suddenly, small horny growths emerged between the hairs of his fur. Panicked, Furghân wanted to wipe out the stuff on his body. He only succeeded in putting it on his fingers. His hand painfully turned into a ungulate pig leg. The transformation of his leg ran now along his back. The pain was such that he fell to his knees. He gave a last cry of terror on seeing his chest stretching, covering with a black shell, while the other arm was torn down in a slew of pseudopodia. His nose shrivelled, a third eye hatched on his forehead, and finally the mutation attacked his brain.

Diassyon quickly adopted his favourite technique of war. He quickly picked up a warplock jezzail led by one of his dead comrades and rushed to one of the houses. He made a huge jump, grabbed the ledge, and climbed on the roof. He picked out of his backpack all the warpstone pistols he could, reloaded the jezzail, laid down on the straw, and began firing position, on the lookout for the best target. He knew that Chitik, good fighter, could defend himself, and could also count on his two friends. That's why he chose to focus on those who fought against the Pestilens. The Globadiers would soon run out of ammunition, like the warpfire launchers, he knew it. But if this was his last battle, he was determined to take the most weird-things with him.

Chitik hit in every direction, with all his energy. A weird-thing with three viscous tentacles sprang with a shrill cry in his direction. Briach's spear pierced its plastron. The Black Skaven launched a brief grunt of gratitude to his elder. Briach pierced the weird-things and their mounts, aiming the weak points. He thought he had found the right pace, when suddenly a golden light dazzled him.

Away from hurting him, the light was soft and soothing. As he opened his eyes, he saw that the battle was over. They had won. Not only the weird-things were all dead, but also all the other Skaven of the colony had joined. Grey Seer Vellux waved his hand with a friendly smile. Behind the White Skaven, three beautiful breeders were placidly waiting to receive his favours. Briach felt irresistibly drawn by three females. After all, he had also earned such a wonderful reward!

Rool fenced furiously. The flat of the blade of one of his opponents crushed the fingers of his left hand, he squealed in pain. Furious, he knocked louder.

- Come on, Briach, let's crush them!

He listened, waiting for a response from his friend, but heard nothing. He cast a quick glance to his left, and felt a shiver draw all his hair. Briach was no longer fighting, and seemed completely absent.

- Briach?

The old Black Skaven said nothing. He dropped his spear, and stood idly. A slight smile narrowed his features marked by many fights. He walked slowly, with a dazed chuckle.

Seeing this, Rool immediately realised he was no longer himself. His eyes widened when he saw a group of riders. He could not approach the old Black Skaven, too far from him. He cried:

- Briach! Don't stay there-here! Watch it!

Useless, Briach didn't listen, didn't seem to hear him even. The riders passed in gale, one of them grazed the Black Skaven. A split second later, Briach's head rolled in the grass a few feet from his body that slumped to the side.

- Briach! cried Rool.

Moly was devastated. He saw his comrades falling one after another under the blows of those weird-things. It was impossible, absurd! How could they be so many? He had the opportunity to take a peek on Eshin maps, and according to the Clan spies, it shouldn't have been so many enemies! So what? Was it the Master Assassin Tweezil who had elements not as qualified as he claimed, and that they had miscounted? Or maybe the enemy troops had they swollen themselves between the return of the Eshin and the arrival of Furghân's company? Or worse, the Master Assassin lied and gave false information?

The young Pestilens had a burst, a brief illumination in his brain. After all, it was in the Eshin style of acting treacherously! All Clans would suffer from this debacle except Clan Eshin, which had no representative here! They were thus able to extend significantly their influence on Brissuc! The Clan leaders would be the firsts to suffer.

Moly didn't think to rejoice at the idea of seeing the life of Deacon Soum stop. He thought only to save his skin. He ran and ran, but something stopped him.

_Chitik! Diassyon!_

Normally, prolong his existence as much as possible was a compelling argument to escape any danger at full speed for any Skaven, including himself. Now, for the first time, another concept came to disturb his primitive instinct: the life of another. In this case, his two blood brothers. They not only represented his only chance of survival against the evil of the old Pestilens, but... the fact of seeing them dead twisted more his intestines. He could not, should not, _didn't want_ to abandon them!

He felt the taste of his bitter and smelly saliva going back in his mouth and smearing his lips. His facies twisted into a hideous grimace charged with anger. He spotted something, not away from him, that might reverse the course of events: a dark and sticky spread in mud, wrapped in a package of purple fabric.

_Thâthyn! The Horned Rat is with me!_

Moly didn't care to have lost the leader of the Plague Monks, because he was not a fearful novice unable to take care of himself. However, he spotted the plague censer not far from the corpse. His chances of survival would pounce. He rushed to the flail, grabbed the hollow ball between his hands, stuck his nose in one of the slots in the steel globe, and breathed deeply. Fumes of warpstone incense set ablaze successively his brain, nerves and muscles. He raised his head, dropping his hood and gave a whoop so loud and shrill that all ears whistled around him. He grabbed with both hands the handle, lifted effortlessly the heavy thing, and whirled it above his head before running towards the group of marauders nearest.

Weird-things warriors surrounding Chitik were propelled into the soft earth, crushed, smashed. His arms ached, his breath weakened. Fortunately, he was able to gradually regain the space around him. He looked for the brown Skaven, and finally distinguished him away. Diassyon was in bad shape. Perched on one of the houses, he held his jezzail by the barrel, and banged with the butt the Mutants who wanted to grab his ankles or tail. The Stormvermin ran in his direction with large reels, overturning the weird-things. He saw three long-limbed Mutants climb simultaneously on the thatch, approach Diassyon, surround and engirdle him. One of them flung him a punch on the back of his skull, which destabilized him. The Skryre fell forward, and found himself quickly removed and carried away by the mass of weird-things.

- _Diassyon!_

He rushed towards the group that carried the brown Skaven, ready to grind the whole horde of Mutants alone. A Homeric chirping on his left reached his ears. Turning his head, he spotted his other brother, and opened his eyes, impressed. The Plague Monk knocked with all his strength on all marauders reach. The Black Skaven distinguished under the strips that partially covered the face of the cream Skaven all signs of an uncontrollable animal rage. His eyes were bloodshot, his mouth full of foam saliva, his protruding fangs ready to bite, and he cried to break from his vocal cords while smashing his enemies with a vengeance. The weird-things fell around him like flies.

- Chitik! Moly!

The voice of the brown Skaven drew Chitik from his astonishment. Then he noticed something more disturbing. Diassyon was held firmly by the arms and legs, and the sneers of Mutants were audible. One particularly muscular quartered his jaws with terrible force, and shoved something in his mouth. The Stormvermin quickly realised that it was a poison. He redoubled anger and prepared to charge the group when something bruised his stomach. A weird-thing warrior had flanked him a violent blow with the flat of his heavy axe. The great Black Skaven was breathless. He growled in frustration thinking he might hold out if there had not been this damned crossbow bolt, but soon it was the fear that sprang from his musk glands. The marauder crushed his nose with its fist, knocking him clear.

Around Moly, it was only confusion, spurts of blood, screams of pain, sweat and saliva shedding, clashing of steel against steel, flesh tears, ruptures of tendons and broken bones. The Pestilens was unleashed as he never had been. The warpstone incense, combined with his desire to rescue his two brothers, had plunged him into a murderous trance as his darkest angers couldn't trigger. There was not the slightest ounce of complex reasoning in his drugged brain, simply an irresistible urge to kill anything that didn't look like a Skaven, again and again. The constant effort was hurting his body, but the cream Skaven was not aware of any pain. As he saw Chitik collapsing at the feet of the marauder, he became totally hysterical. He closed his eyes and shook his censer in all directions, hoping to hit someone. He felt a few shocks shake his hands, while groans of pain exploded in his ears.

Suddenly he opened his eyes with a violent hiccup. By reflex, he dropped the censer, and put his hands to his throat. He realised a sort of wet strap was wrapped around his neck and pressed his trachea, depriving him of air. He fell to his knees, his eyes bulging, his mouth foaming. He even felt a pain tear rolling from the corner of his eye. The strap pulled him back, and dragged him on his back several yards. Moly groaned in pain and panic. His vision blurred more, darkened. It was then he heard a laugh. A sardonic and calm laugh at the same time, a laugh that could bring ridicule or admiration. He writhed, trying to see who could laugh.

Not far from him stood a horse. Its short fur was dyed with garish colours. Its legs ended with long spitted claws and its eyes burned with an orange flash. The cream Skaven realised that it was its long and tubular tongue which held him down. On the creature sat a strange character. It was a weird-thing, but it hadn't at all the same attitude as the others. It wore a fine fabrics and richly decorated dress. Impossible to see its face, it wore a mask painted with intricate designs. Just before losing consciousness in turn, Moly recognized on its tabard the symbol Grey Seer Vellux pursued relentlessly since the night they brought him the cursed breeder.


	16. A lesson of Supranatural Sciences

**I'd like to thank all of you. I know FanFiction is not as watched as YouTube, and it's more difficult to be seen and reviewed on this site, but I know you're all real fans, too. You take your time to read the adventures of the Skaven siblings, and with your encouragements, The Enfant Terrible accounts 1000 views today, the 18th April 2013 (my birthday! What a nice gift!).**

**So, thank you again for your faithfulness. It will take the time it will, but I'm really motivated to finish this story, even if the publish rhythm will slow. Until now, I just translated what I've already written; now I'm coming to unwritten parts.**

**Glory to the Horned Rat!**

Diassyon awoke with a spurt. His whole body was nothing but a pain. Groans, hoarse breathing sounded around him. He slowly raised his eyelids. He was in a large room dimly lit by a few rays of light. The air was very hot. His eyes quickly became accustomed to darkness, and gradually he recognised around him most of the Skaven who were with him. There remained only twenty of them. Some were still unconscious, lying on the dusty ground, others were gathered in small groups, and waited, eyes wide with fear. He leaned on his hands to get up, and noted his comrades in misfortune and himself were all naked as slow worms.

- What... is this?

- Diassyon? asked Chitik's gruff voice.

- Brother? Are you there?

The Black Skaven came and hugged him, relieved.

- Diassyon! Finally, you're awake-awake! Are you fine?

- I had worse, the brown Skaven lied. And you?

- Fine-okay, but we're in the dung!

- What is this place?

- I don't know. They captured and locked us.

- "They"? Who? Oh, no! The weird-things!

There was a low moan close to him. Diassyon distinguished another Stormvermin, sitting on the floor, his head between his hands. Chitik murmured:

- It's Rool. He's very sad. Briach was like a brother to him.

- And Furghân?

- He was a coward and a fool-idiot! yelped Rool. Not worthy to be a Fangleader!

- He's right, Chitik growled. With a talented chef, we wouldn't be here!

The brown Skaven scratched his head and considered the sad situation. So they were twenty Skaven, presumably prisoners in a huge circular cell, with a low ceiling. The wall was constituted with thick cemented stone, with the exception of about a quarter of its circumference, made of solid bars. It wasn't possible to see between the iron bars, as a heavy purple cloth curtain was stretched across, and was too far away to be reached. Behind the tissue, slight rubbing and grunting were heard. In the middle of the ceiling, a large circular pit had been dug. This was where the light came from. Diassyon could see the sky through a grid.

He had an inspiration. All he had to do was climb up the chimney, push the grid to remove it and escape.

- Let's get out of here!

- Useless, I tried Chitik murmured. Too heavy-heavy.

Diassyon lowered his head and sighed. He scanned the cell once again, and didn't spot a particular Skaven. He asked in a trembling voice:

- Where's Moly?

Nobody answered. The young Warlock Engineer insisted.

- Chitik, where is Moly?

- I don't know!

- He was not with us in the cage?

- Nobody, neither entered nor left, sniffed Kapish, one of his Skirmishers.

- They massacred-liquidated all Pestilens!

- What?

Diassyon spun in a heartbeat to the one who had spoken. It was a Skaven with size and constitution relatively similar to his own. His fur was chestnut and contained a few spots, including a bright spot on his left eye, and a patch of dark fur on his right eye. Master Mutator Skilit had called him Tôrkh and made him a rat-ogres master. Like most Skaven of his condition, he much preferred to be in the role of the dominant one than in the dominated one, and the captivity made him really grumpy. He darted a furious look to the Warlock Engineer.

- They let alive the less injured-scarred. They want to torture us, and do what they did to the Skaven in the village. There are some Moulder, some Skryre, some Clanrats and two Stormvermin. But I saw them exterminate-destroy the Plague Monks.

- Moly…! You saw him die?

- No. But be realistic, Diassyon! No reason they have spared him!

The brown Skaven screamed with anger, and punched a Clanrat. He leapt forward, grabbed the bars with both hands, and barked:

- Open! Get us out of here!

The noise of a sliding curtain rod rang. Light flooded the cell. The Skryre stepped back and blinked. The wall bars of their cage so overlooked to a circular arena, one hundred feet in diameter, the ground covered with sand. Several weird-things – grotesque Mutant slaves clad with nails and hooks – were passing the broom. Diassyon pointed to something.

- Look!

On the other side of the arena, a double door opened, letting in a very strange creature. It looked like a huge cockroach. Over its body with dozens of rattling legs, it was a huge square shell, measuring six feet long, surrounded by a half dozen fleshy tentacles. It stopped and straightened slowly, turning on itself. All Skaven in the cage squeaked and whistled. The shell was smooth and solid, and someone was lying on. It was Moly. Completely naked too, he was firmly maintained on the shell with four tentacles of the beast wrapped around his wrists and ankles.

- Moly! cried the two Skaven related to him by blood, rushing simultaneously on the bars.

The Plague Monk slowly opened his eyes and saw his brothers.

- Chitik? Diassyon?

- Hold on, brother! cried the Stormvermin. We'll get you out of here?

_How?_ thought the Warlock Engineer.

The slaves then retreated, kneeling. Someone else had entered the arena. It was a man-thing, however an unusual and rather disturbing impression exuded from him. This male was of medium height, had a rather short black, pulled back fur skull. He had raised eyebrows, a long pointed nose, a pointed chin, and small black eyes deep set in their sockets. He wore a grey coat over green breeches and leather gloves. His clothes were stained with blood.

He stopped near the bridge creature, glanced at the Skaven prisoner, and speaking queekish, said in a full of disgust voice:

- This giant rat is awful to watch! Even as a gift as a bedside, I wouldn't take it!

The Skryre widened his eyes by better seeing the Pestilens. He yelled:

- What have you done to him?

- Me? Nothing! the man-thing replied, with a laugh. I haven't touched him yet. He was already in that state.

Diassyon and Chitik realised that for the first time, they saw completely their brother. Without his bandages, his dress, his hood and all other artifices, he appeared as he really was: a miserable Skaven, with skinny members and chest but with stomach bloated by disease. His short fur was peeling in places, crusts of blood and other dried fluids spattered his hair, repugnant buboes clusters emerged here and there on his hairless skin, lacerations burst his coat, and still putrid liquids were oozing. One of his legs was malformed, following a truncated angle. His face scarred with coarsely sutured scars shone with yellowish secretions. The Black Skaven felt his heart sink, understanding where Moly's constant bad mood came from. Even for a son of the Horned Rat, he was very ugly, and without the drugs he consumed widely, all these miseries should make him suffer martyrdom. Diassyon grinned aggressively.

- And who the hell are you?

- Who am I? asked the Human raising an eyebrow. It's been months since you guys never cease to annoy my projects one after the other, and you ask who I am? I am Aescos Karkadourian, faithful servant of Slaanesh.

He approached the cage with a scornful look.

- You thought you were smarter than me, I bet. I knew your spies were watching me for a long time. I've been tired knowing you were perpetually on my back. So I decided to set a trap by making you believe I gathered my troops in the village. Unfortunately for you, I had more available troops than I've led to believe! How I laughed when I saw your miserable battalion spending all its energy to kill the unfortunate few regiments that served as a decoy!

Karkadourian was now right in front of the bars, three steps of the reach of Skaven. He chuckled when he saw several arms frantically trying to catch him, stirring the air but failed to.

- You averse me, sewer vermin! And you disgust my god! I had the idea of finding a way to rid this world of your kind, with all the skill and subtlety taught by Slaanesh. Soon I shall succeed, despite your sabotage. I will curse all your females, and you'll die all one after the other, your mouth foaming, your lips stretched by smile and your crotch erupting! As for the too rotten to copulate ratmen, I will make them heighten their murderous impulses at their peak, so they devour everything they can!

Behind bars, some Skaven hissed in anger. Chitik snarled, showing his teeth. The Human returned to the centre of the arena. His expression went gradually from contempt to a kind of indulgence.

- However, it is not said that I am a narrow-minded, and sealed any challenge accompanied by strong arguments and evidence. And when I am wrong in my research, I accept willingly acknowledge my mistakes and learn something new.

Karkadourian approached the monster-torture rack, and leaned to Moly.

- You've got guts, despite your pathetic appearance. I saw you fighting against my warriors, and I confess that you impressed me. So beastly energy expended! What a beautiful sight!

- It was... it was you on the horse!

- Indeed! Be happy, also because it is your savagery that has impressed me enough for me to leave you alive for now. All your Pestilens friends are dead, you're the last one. You have good skills, and I think I can put them to work, as long as I give you a little motivation.

- I... I don't understand.

- I'm ready to let you go, you and your comrades, if you manage to convince me that your ugliness and your animality may outweigh the beauty of my work.

- How?

With a disturbing smile, the wizard stretched his hand to the Skaven. Moly cringed when he felt the touch of the Human fingers on his chest. Karkadourian twirled his hand slowly, dragging his knuckles in the short fur of his prisoner.

- You're a Plague Monk, aren't you? I could have proposed you to work for me, if I had been chosen by Nurgle. Unfortunately for you, I serve Slaanesh, and he hates ugliness. He is very patient and infinitely tolerant, including for those who are ugly by birth. But when it comes to something that disfigures, stifles and destroys the existing beauty, he is ruthless. You spread the disease, degeneration. My god doesn't like it at all.

The Chaos worshipper continued his ploy, bringing down his hand slowly. The Skaven was increasingly troubled.

- You are an intelligent creature, which has been well trained. However, there is still an animal within you, and I want to know if your conditioning has overcome it.

Moly screamed in rage as the wizard stroked a particularly sensitive area of his anatomy. He struggled, but the cockroach tightened the grip of its tentacles, crushing his wrists and ankles. Blood tinged red his cream hair. He spat in anger towards his executioner, tried to bite his arm without success.

- Stop-stop!

- Hey, you're a servant supposedly devoted to you God and nothing else, you're not made of wood, are you?

Moly squealed a series of screeching shrill, so much so that all the eardrums of nearby whistled. Even Mutant slaves stopped their work to watch, intrigued. The poor Skaven felt so humiliated that he began to sob. Chitik perceived his distress, and it plunged him into a rage. He threw himself against the bars, arms stretched forward and bellowed:

- I WILL TEAR YOUR ARMS OFF AND MAKE YOU SWALLOW, SORCERER!

The Human withdrew his hand, and slowly approached the cage, a fascinated smile on his lips.

- What a brute force! What bestiality! The essence of pure savagery! How your enemies and your females should tremble at your approach!

- I WILL KILL YOU!

- Your turn will come, big beast. Patience. For the moment, I'd like to play a little more with our plagued friend.

- What do you want from me? the Pestilens squeaked.

Karkadourian returned to the giant cockroach.

- I want you to allow me to see if my last experience is effective or not.

- What are you gonna do to me?

- I'll set you free, and test your strength. If you manage to survive what you're about to face, you can all go without further injury, I give you my word. If you fail, you die, and I can do everything I want to your comrades.

- I... I...

- Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you that you don't have a choice, Skaven. You'll do what I say, or I kill everyone at once.

The cream Skaven threw a furious glance at Karkadourian. The latter retreated and left the arena. Diassyon cried:

- Moly, if we come out, I promise you... that...

Indeed, he couldn't promise anything. What could he do for his unfortunate brother? Could he even do something? Moly turned his head towards him and gave him a sad smile between his tears.

Another curtain slid. It was located above the round and sandy surface. Karkadourian appeared, comfortably sat on cushions. He had a wooden plank on his knees, on which there was a sheet of paper, picked up a feather, and prepared to take notes. He cleared his throat and uttered aloud a series of unintelligible syllables. Immediately, the giant cockroach loosened his grip and kicked out.

Moly fell and rolled on the sand, half stunned. The creature withdrew, and the portcullis fell. The unfortunate Pestilens got up painfully. Dizzy, he winced as he felt the pain in his leg revive. He shook himself vigorously, and managed to get up. He looked up and his eyes met the sorcerer. He gradually recovered his breath, and felt his shame turn into a rage that kindled his entire body.

Karkadourian did not seem impressed. He jabbered an order, speaking men-thing dialect, and announced in a clear voice:

- We will now proceed to our first experience. How long can you survive, ugly beast?

The grids got up, and strange grunts came out of the darkness. Karkadourian continued his explanation:

- You see, rotten Skaven, when a servant of the Chaos Gods like me goes to war, he calls demons from another plan of exis... anyway, for a mouldy brain like you, I'll make it simpler: I bring special warriors by magic. But these warriors can't stay too long, they eventually disappear after a while, even if they are not killed. So, I applied to take creatures of our world, and change them a little, so that they are as effective as those magical warriors.

Moly's eyes widened as he saw entering the arena of very strange things... he couldn't tell if they were men-things or weird-things. Two of them were at first glance she-things with protruding breasts, without skull fur. Their skin was covered with tattoos, their hind legs ended with hooves. Flesh horns grew on their foreheads. The most surprising was that they had long claws at the end of their arms instead of hands.

The third one was a very special weird-thing. It had a normal man-thing body, fully encased in a painted red armour, except the head. It was not a man-thing head, but that of a white hair horse. The horse-thing brandished a heavy spiked club. The gate closed behind it.

The three weird-things slowly advanced towards the cream Skaven. This cast a glance over his shoulder. All other Skaven were waiting in the cage, their eyes fixed on him. In the first line, Chitik and Diassyon were side by side, anxious as they had never been.

Moly was alone, naked and unarmed. The low self-esteem that remained him had been seriously undermined by Karkadourian. All he had left was his fury, and he was determined to unleash it on his tormentors.

Precisely, the first clamped she-thing approached, with a mocking laugh. It took a step, then another, its hooves sank slowly into the sand. Then it sprang forward with a wild cry, its claws ready to grab him. He dove to the side, not fast enough. The serrated claw of the creature rapped his thigh. The cream Skaven stood up, and felt the sticky blood flowing on his coat. The she-thing sneered, snapping its pincers. It was the last affront to the Pestilens. He felt the rage set fire to his nerves, his short fur bristled, his breathing quickened, and foaming saliva dripped from his mouth.

The two she-things advanced by waving slowly their slender limbs. Behind, the horse-thing was patiently waiting its turn. Both females danced around Moly, revolved around him without approaching or moving away, without disfiguring their disturbing smile. Soon, he found himself right between the two. He couldn't have the two at the same time in his field of vision, and it made him nervous. He had the feeling the one before him would continue its perturbing parade, and the other one would take benefit to butcher his back. He took a step toward the she-thing, which recoiled with a chuckle. He turned in a start, and noticed that the other she-thing had approached him. Time to see this, the first female approached him two steps.

Moly felt the trap slowly but surely closing on him. He decided not to let it go. He stepped to one of the two females, it stepped back. He lifted his leg to initiate a second step, then turned abruptly. The she-thing behind him had anticipated his gesture and was set guard position. But the cream Skaven was cleverer: no sooner had he pretended to attack the second female he jumped on the first one, claws out.

Even in his unhealthy state due to illness, Moly was able to fight, especially in a wild frenzy. He ploughed unrestrained the forearms of the she-thing it had stretched before its face. It groaned in rage and swung its hoof to the belly of the Skaven. He was thrown back, gasping, and rolled on the sand. The other she-thing jumped towards him, its claws ready to grab him. He dodged the attack by inches, and yelped in pain. The she-thing had taken a small piece of skin from his side. He stepped back, his eyes furiously passing from one to the other of the two females.

The one on his left was still snapping its claws while swaying slowly. Then it made a huge jump, arms raised, to strike them all forces on the Skaven. Instead of backing, Moly lunged forward, head down, and crashed into the she-thing at its chest. He grabbed it with both hands, and rushed against one of the stone walls. It screamed as its delicate back hit the rough wall. The Pestilens plunged his fingers directly in its eyes, then stopped its cries by cutting its throat with the clutches of his other hand. The she-thing collapsed in his arms.

Moly squeaked with satisfaction. One weird-thing less! He regained confidence. The fight was not over, but he had a good chance of winning! Immediately, he turned to face the other she-thing. It was no longer smiling, aware that it was dealing with a more dangerous opponent than it looked. Its legs bent, its claws up to its head, it was waiting for a sign from the Skaven cream. The smell of fresh blood excited the Pestilens, who would no longer waste time. He ran to the she-thing sweeping the air with his crooked-fingers paw. The she-thing backed with a movement of the clamp, and seized the hand of the Skaven at his wrist. It hoped to cut off his arm, but the ratman was faster: he spat a stream of viscous saliva into its face. It found herself blinded by the stinking fluid and loosened its grip to wipe its eyes.

Moly freed his hand, shoved it into the belly of the she-thing. His claws tore the purplish and tender flesh. Oddly, the creature didn't scream as loud as men-things usually did. But it changed nothing for Moly. His arm down into the bowels of the she-thing, he fumbled at full speed, and felt between his fingers something soft and elastic. He pulled with all his strength. This time, the female gave a screech, while the Pestilens tore him out all its entrails. It fell to the ground.

Moly felt cheers and applause up to his ears. He cast a glance toward the cage. No doubt, his comrades, overexcited, encouraged him as they never did. The cream Skaven felt a wave of pleasure go back on him. It was a pleasant, exhilarating feeling. It never had happened to him! At this time, he was really important. His fellows, his brothers were counting on him, he was their only hope of release, their life depended directly on his success! As it was exciting! They wouldn't be disappointed!

The horse-thing approached in turn, ready to crush the Skaven with his spiked club. The Pestilens felt his nose frown. This one would be more dangerous. It was tall, almost larger than Chitik, its heavy iron armour seemed solid, and when it reeled with its club, the weapon whistled loudly in the air. The acolyte was determined not to be touched by this dreadful tool.

Both fighters turned slowly around each other, each gauging the other with a gaze. Moly wanted to push the horse-thing to make a wrong move by a few short bursts, but the other didn't get caught.

In the cage, the two brothers exchanged a worried look. Both had cheered twice louder than the other seeing the incredible performance of their younger, but they had understood this enemy was far more formidable than the two clawed females. Chitik, used to melee, quickly sized up the horse-thing. It looked brawny in its armour, and much more difficult to reverse. Beat up this creature with a multitude of short, quick strokes wouldn't probably be enough, and Moly, even at the climax of his rage, wasn't strong enough to defeat with brute force.

The cream Skaven swayed his head from left to right, more and more widely, then danced from one foot to the other. The horse-thing remained impassive, merely looking at the young ratman, without flinching. Moly stopped moving, understood his attempt wasn't working.

Immediately, the horse-thing swung up and down its club. The nailed head fell on the ground, lifted a cloud of sand where the Skaven was a moment earlier. Without slowing, the creature struck again, and again, and again, long, wide. Each movement brewed the air, every blow was probably fatal.

Moly was a Skaven, a true Son of the Horned Rat, and like all of his kind, he was much quicker than most other creatures. He managed to dodge the attacks of the horse-thing, but this began to tire him. As he felt the steel ball crush the tip of his tail, he squealed in pain and jumped back.

He grabbed his caudal appendage with both hands and looked at the end. The pain and horror made him grow up tears to his eyes when he saw the last foot of his tail was completely crushed, reduced to a bloody mash. He glanced daggers to the horse-thing and screeched with all his might, eager to avenge the insult. He ran by a circle around the horse-thing, jumped on it and bit its arm. He had a nasty surprise when he felt the red steel resisting his incisors. Indeed, the Skaven teeth were normally sharp enough to pierce the armour of men-things; himself had seen one or the other of his brothers accomplish this feat. However, his blunt teeth were not cutting enough, or the horse-thing wore armour made of a too solid material. He so stayed attached to the forearm of the weird-thing which punched violently his nose.

Moly was thrown back. He slid on his back and rolled and rolled, before stopping on his belly. He slowly opened his eyes, and thought he was floating amid a flurry of sparks. His nose was just a ball of bleeding pain. His temples were throbbing so hard he could hardly hear the cries of frightened Skaven begging him go back into battle. He stood up, shook his head, snorted and snarled with rage. He decided to play double or quits.

The cream Skaven ran in the opposite direction towards his opponent, leaned on the wall, and rushed forward twice as fast. Then he made a huge jump, legs stretched forward and crashed into the horse-thing full force in its torso. The horse-thing endured the strike, solidly planted on its legs. Surprised by such resistance, the cream Skaven fell on his back at the feet of the weird-thing. He had no time to react, this time. He felt his chest compressed by an irresistible force. He looked up and saw the huge leg of the horse-thinge on his heart. He frantically tried to push it in vain.

The horse-thing crushed its boot tracks on the sternum of the ratman. Pain surpassed adrenaline, and quickly became unbearable. Moly screamed – at least he tried, but only let out a strangled groan. The horse-thing slowly raised its weapon. The Pestilens saw in its eyes shine a glimmer of evil joy. His opponent was enjoying his fear of dying. He struggled with the energy of despair, but the foot of the horse-thing didn't move. Suddenly, by reflex, he succeeded in contract the right muscle, and sent his tail whipping the back of the horse-thing. The tip of the appendix lashed on its ear. It started, putting its hand to its temple, cut in its gesture. This was enough to the cream Skaven. He slashed the shank of the horse-thing with his claws. Then, feeling the pressure of the boot relaxing, he seized it with both hands and pushed with all his might. The horse-thing fell backwards and landed heavily on its bottom with a surprised snort.

Moly wouldn't let such an opportunity. He jumped on the horse-thing, sinked his thumbs into its nostrils, pinned it to the ground and bit its neck with all the power of his jaws. Immediately, the skin was torn, the veins broke, the blood spurted. But the Pestilens didn't release his catch. He pulled, he tore, he stripped. The horse-thing whinnied in pain, tried to push him away, but all its forces sped through the gaping wound. Soon the horse-thing remained lying on the red with blood sand, and did move no more.

It was only after a long minute that Moly ceased to strive on the-horse thing. He raised his head; his nose, his mouth, his neck and chest were red and sticky. He looked at Karkadourian and whispered furiously in his direction. The sorcerer, who didn't show the slightest emotion, merely applauded slowly.

- Compliments Skaven. You destroyed in a few minutes the result of several months of work. But I won't hold it against you. After all, it shows what one of your kind is capable of when it is cornered, and I'll keep it in mind for my future experiences. You're doing well. Let's see what you can to do against something that I prepared especially for your attention. This will be your last test!

The background grid slid again. A slender figure stepped into the arena. Everyone was silent. Moly found himself literally petrified by what he saw.

Before him stood a Skaven. It had a thin muzzle, a round skull, a delicate morphology. No garment covered its fur dyed blue and pink tones body. Strange cabalistic symbols were tattooed with blue ink on its stomach and abdomen. There were some signs that designated as an aberration worthy of the Clan Moulder laboratories – a big claw as a right hand, the tail ending with a wasp sting.

Without understanding why, Moly found himself completely captivated by this apparition. He thought this Skaven was particularly pleasant to watch. Why? It was clearly not natural, and no Skaven had never attracted so much the attention of the young Pestilens. Maybe it was its graceful gait? Its delicate limbs? Its waist with rounded hips which only wanted to be kneaded under his fingers? There was something else that emanated... the smell! Yes, this intoxicating, delicious scent... Moly had never breathed such a perfume. The Plague Monk shook his head. He wouldn't let this strange Skaven panic his senses!

The creature still took a few steps, and emitted small acute giggles. A particularly seductive melody, which electrified more the backbone of the young ratman. It waddled its rump, then slowly swung the pelvis back and forth, without ceasing to smile or giggle.

Looking more closely, Moly had a shock that left him speechless.

_A female!_

From his seat, Karkadourian was jubilant.

- Well, then? What game are you playing, Skaven? You've killed two women without any hesitation! What about this one? Ah! Is it because she has a long tail and big teeth, like you?

The Pestilens didn't know at all what to do. Indeed, the Pestilens of Brissuc were kept away from breeders, because of their illnesses. Once within the Clan, they had to definitely give up this pleasure, to avoid the risk of contaminating the procreative. Normally, the drugs helped them forget their impulses. But the cream Skaven was craving, and fully felt the influence of the hormones of the female, which he discovered the fragrance.

The layer smiled more as she was aware of the state of panic of the young Plague Monk. She purred, and even approached. When she was just a breath of Moly, she licked her lips. She was almost as tall as he was, and much more assured. She raised her left hand and slid along his shoulder. Slender, delicate, her touch caused him a storm of emotions.

_No, no! Females are only… for deserving Skaven! And never for Pestilens! I'm so ugly, so lousy! No breeder could produce healthy small Skaven with me!_

And yet, the creature didn't seem at all indisposed by his ugliness. She took with infinite tenderness his right hand, and headed it slowly to her chest. Moly gasped when he felt soft and firm forms of the female waving under his knuckles. He seemed even perceive the beating of her heart. Without stop giggling, she continued to guide his hand on her body. Then she pressed herself against him.

- I admit I've a little extrapolated, my friend, continued Karkadourian. Knowing the Skaven, I doubt that your girls have the freedom to play the card of seduction. So I relied on the charms of demonettes to inculcate her art of courtship. I hope it doesn't bother you?

Agape, his eyes bulging, Moly saw the breeder slightly open her mouth. Her tongue was forked like a snake, and her incisors were sharp as fangs. He felt her tail slowly wrapping around his malformed leg. Then he uttered a desperate bellow, and firmly pushed the female with a palm pressure on her muzzle. The layer fell on her hindquarters. She steadied by placing the front legs on the sand. Far from feeling any pain, she became even more attractive. She lifted her pelvis, and waved it, still laughing.

- Ah, bravo! What a beautiful example of gallantry! sneered the Slaanesh wizard.

Moly felt less motivated. The mockery of the man-thing did doubt his sincerity.

_Will he really keep his promise? His god is the most deceptive of all the gods of weird-things._

And seeing the female so offered to him, legs apart, with this languorous look and these enticing little squeaks, her intoxicating perfume, the gaudy colours of her dyed fur, made his brain and crotch bubbling. He was not dealing with an old Deacon with disturbing ideas, but a wonderful creature, more and more desirable.

_And this is the first time I can approach a breeder!_

- Are you fearing transmit to her your diseases? asked Karkadourian. Don't worry, I'll make another one. She's all yours! Have fun as much as you want with!

She continued to stir her buttocks, still with that little laugh... It was too much for the Skaven.

_He will kill all of us anyway. Better ending like that!_

He finally left overwhelmed by this idea. This sounded like an invitation to a probably deadly delight, but anyway, he had nothing left to lose. He breathed, and released his shoulders. He took a step toward the female, then a second. In the cage, all Skaven panicked.

- Moly, no!

- Don't! It will kill-kill you!

- You're gonna make us all die!

- Gut it! Slay it!

Moly saw nothing but the breeder at his feet, and only the sound of her gasps came to his ears. He crouched down, and with a sharp yelp, jumped on her. She lay at full length and laughed as he covered her.

The young Plague Monk was delighted. Gradually, the excitement reached its paroxysm. Throwing his head back, he let out a guttural roar of a surprising power. He had never had the idea of such an explosion of pleasure. Mate the layer was such an ecstatic experience he completely forgot his pain. His whole being was no longer nothing else than a compelling intoxication, and he felt only a tickling as the sting of the strange creature planted in his neck, before he fainted.

- Moly! No, Moly! Chitik growled.

Other Skaven screamed in panic and despair, seeing their chances of escape dying with the Pestilens. Diassyon, however, didn't react, so shocked by what he was seeing.

- Looks like we have a loser! Karkadourian said before bursting into laughter.

The Skryre turned his head when he saw his brother fall like a puppet, held by the sting of the evil female. With a loud laugh, she pushed him with her hind legs. Then she stood up, slapped the Pestilens to the ground, bit his neck and clawed his chest.

One hour later, calm was restored in the large cage. No more Skaven did say a word. All of them had only one certainty: die in this cage, or worse, between the hands of this mad scientist. The most warlike of them were the most shocked. Their dominant male pride had taken a hit. How a female, a vulgar, weak, stupid and not even natural breeder, could have killed a true Skaven who had destroyed three weird-things in quick succession one minute earlier? It was impossible! Even the Horned Rat would never have allowed such nonsense! And yet...

Chitik, more focused on fighting than the intrinsic Skaven misogyny, was pondering the fight in his head again and again. He had understood Moly had let it go. One way or another, the layer had trapped him. He then remembered Skahl of Clan Moulder, his other brother died in the same way, many moons ago. Karkadourian had made progress. While it had been easy for the Stormvermin to resist the temptation to mate the breeder of Niklasweiler, so this one seemed much more dangerous. What if the Slaanesh sorcerer managed to create others? A whole regiment was able to make crazy all the Clanrats close. First, they would all fight themselves to play with females, and the survivors would die by pleasure between their thighs.

A very unpleasant noise interrupted the thoughts of the Black Skaven. Above the cell, someone began to play the flute. Chitik felt his fur bristling. For the Sons of the Horned Rat, the flute was an instrument of music linked to loss stories, including that of the charming Skaven flutist who, it was said, had bewitched a whole contingent of Skaven and had pushed them to drown in a river thanks to his music. According to their beliefs, the sound of a flute was bad luck. The simplicity of Chitik's mind made him very superstitious. He looked up at the ceiling grid.

- Stop it, it's awful-awful!

The flute sound stopped, a sly laugh sounded, and the music continued, stronger, more playful. The Black Skaven squealed in anger. He picked up a skull that was lying in the sand and threw it with all his strength in the air. The skull was smashed to pieces against the steel grid. Again, the music stopped, there was a small impressed sigh, and steps went away.

Diassyon had not paid attention. Sat on the sand, his hands clasped on his nose, he was upset as he had never been. The announcement of Psody's death had already made him so sad, but he hadn't to endure the sight of his last moments. This time, it was different. First, he fully understood the hopelessness of his brother as he saw him naked and defenseless, and hadn't recovered this pathetic sight yet.

_If only he had been willing to talk to me, tell me what he had on his stomach... I might be able to help him feel better!_

Then he witnessed his tragic death. It was not only sad, it was also foolish. In fact, he didn't know what to feel. Sorrow? For a Skaven who had failed to defend himself against a simple breeder? No, according to the mentality of the Sons of the Horned Rat, he didn't deserve any consideration. However, Diassyon had assumed for a long time the fact having different opinions, and for him, Moly was more than a simple Skaven among others. Therefore, last months, there was a special bond between them, the same which united him to Chitik, which had formerly attached to Psody. On the other hand, the small perpetual miseries of the Pestilens had ended, and his last sensations were the most enjoyable of his life. He was probably happier where he was now. Was it sad? And could there be a more beautiful end to die of extreme pleasure?

The trap opened above them. A voice cried:

- Enjoy your meal, rats!

Several pieces of moldy meat fell from the opening in the centre of the cellar. Attracted by the smell, Diassyon rose, tried to approach, hesitantly advancing cautiously his foot. He retreated hastily when a heavier quarter fell in a loud noise on the pile of rotten food. The Skryre fell to his knees and groaned miserably seeing it was the mutilated corpse of Moly. The poor Pestilens only had a gaping and bloody hole as a chest, and his neck showed signs of bites and sting let by the maleficent breeder. Without any thought of caution about diseases, he hugged the body of his brother and stroked his head lovingly.

- Alas, alas, poor Moly! The Horned Rat relieves your pain forever!

His aware Skaven comrades stared him oddly. Such compassion was very unusual for this kind which didn't normally any consideration for blood ties. For them, once the young Pestilens dead, he was no longer worthy of their interest. Maybe the brown Skaven lost the reason in turn?

The young Warlock Engineer uttered a groan even sadder when he saw the expression of the Plague Monk. The eyes of the cream Skaven were closed as if he was asleep, his features relaxed, and a huge smile of relief stretched his lips.

- Oh... Yes! You see, brother... it's so much nicer; everything looks more beautiful... when you smile.

Chitik put a comforting hand on his shoulder. The younger turned his nose to his eldest.

- Tell me Karkadourian will soon return to his god by us!

- When we get out of here, we'll be back with reinforcements, brother. And this time, we won't leave without the heart- heart of this wizard!


	17. The Initiator

Several days had passed at Steiner's domain. Psody fulfilled his commitments and answered his best all the questions of his host. Together they sifted the rare books on Skaven. Psody admitted that researchers like Leiber or the priestess called Meyer made a rather substantial work, and the information contained in these books, although very incomplete, was correct.

After having approached generalities, they adopted a more thorough way of working, and after the third day, every day always took place in the following manner: in the morning, Steiner came with his notes, notebooks and books, and chose an accurate topic. One morning, they talked about the perfidy of Clan Eshin, another day they focused on the use of warpstone. Both spoke of the chosen topic until lunchtime. Steiner withdrew, leaving the Skaven alone until the next morning. He didn't stay long doing nothing. He tried to read several history books of the Empire, since its founding by Sigmar Heldenhammer to the Chaos Storm. Of course, his youthful mind couldn't accumulate too much datum, he just read the outline.

Three times a day, a servant came to bring him his meals. He was a dark man of medium height, portly, named Samuel. Rather grown for a man of his status, he ended up to show interest toward the little White Skaven. Once, he asked if the food was to his taste, what the small ratman had replied by the affirmative. They eventually get used to exchange a few words when he put the tray of food on the table.

Psody appreciated those short moments when he could talk about something else than the Skaven with other people. He shared this with Steiner. Realising that it was a good chance to socialise a little more his guest, the house master then proposed to organise a "friendly" meal with other people that he or Romulus.

Thus the young ratman took supper one evening with Samuel, and a young woman named Magdalena. She was a special servant of the house, buxom, with blond hair and engaging smile. Both were used to the domain, and participated Steiner's researches for long. They had already had to deal with much less engaging Skaven, and seemed delighted with this dinner. They asked him no questions about his people, preferring to answer his on the Empire, and he wasn't stingy of it.

And the work continued. After the fourth day, Romulus came back to see him. He proposed to spend one hour by afternoon to talk theology. He lent him a missal of prayers to Shallya, and told him the general precepts of Sigmar and Ulric. The little ratman didn't have any intention to renounce his religion, but he was curious to find out others.

Romulus asked him to teach him about his god. Humans knew virtually nothing about the Horned Rat, and most of the things they knew were more like speculation than firm evidence. Having a Grey Seer host was a perfect opportunity to learn more.

At first Psody was terrified: he feared to provoke the wrath of the Horned Rat by talking about him to a Human priest. The prior hadn't insisted, mindful of the fears of the little ratman. But the next day, Psody murmured shyly a few words on the basis of the Skaven religion, and as he hadn't noticed any consequences, spoke freely.

Psody told everything his master had instructed him about the word of the Horned Rat, and he took great delight. First, he thought to take his revenge on Vellux by squandering this reputed secret to the enemies of the Skaven knowledge, then he realised that Romulus was passionate, what encouraged him more. Once again, the young White Skaven had found a partner pleased to share his science with him. The prior took everything down, without missing a word. He however curbed his enthusiasm when he explained all these studies wouldn't be disclosed to the imperial population before many decades. "We are not yet ready to change our perspective about your own", he said.

The young White Skaven accepted it, and continued his cooperation. Every evening, after a good meal, he went to bed, a little more relaxed than the day before. He couldn't explain it, but he felt better gradually as time went on. Some nights, just before falling asleep, he felt a strange sensation, inexplicable, but not unpleasant. Like a friendly presence, tender and reassuring, watching over him. He thought it was the spirit of the old Katel.

Alas, it wasn't sufficient to soften his disturbed sleep. To the chagrin of his hosts, he still couldn't find the courage to talk about his recurring nightmares, and his past, this past that probably contained explanations, according to Romulus. He wanted to, but something still held his tongue when this subject was named. A kind of deep instinct was locking his heart as surely as the heaviest padlock. Romulus was still sorry, but he didn't want to force the small White Skaven.

About ten days after his arrival in Altdorf, he finally received the visit of Felix Jaeger. The latter had kept his word and returned to inquire about his progress. When he apologized for being late, Psody held him no rigor, both relieved and happy to see the poet he now considered as his benefactor. He no longer felt the urge to do him any harm, which improved his mood even more. For his part, Jaeger found that the small White Skaven was now more relaxed, more talkative and less anxious.

The same evening, Steiner kept him at supper with Romulus. They could exchange some opinions on the Imperial news, but soon the centre of the conversation became the White Skaven again. Steiner praised the significant progress made by the small ratman. Jaeger was glad to hear the good news, but still had some doubts.

- Did he have other dementia crises or murder itch?

- Not. He still has sleeping trouble, but he didn't try to hurt someone or to endanger his own life.

- I had a few conversations with him, especially about his religion. As we talked, I could discreetly... "sound a while" his soul, with the intention of Shallya. I didn't feel the evil in him, sir Jaeger.

- That's what I want to believe. Soon, you'll completely tame him.

- It is not taming, sir Jaeger, Steiner explained. I don't oblige him to do anything. While he's locked, for his safety and ours, but it doesn't mean a wild beast we're civilising. In our studies, we had the opportunity to study the behaviour of some Skaven. So far they have never shown the slightest subtlety. They didn't speak reikspiel, at least not to us, but we felt by looking them they were eager to be really violent. And I agree with what Romulus just said. Of course, our young guest is a Skaven, he still keeps his secret share, but he's not a little wild child. He was very cooperative when he spoke of his fellows. Yet, he still refuses to reveal us his past.

- His pride is a common way to hide his fear, Romulus explained. Although he seems more comfortable, his survival instinct is knotting his throat.

- We must take precautions, muttered the poet. You said it, you can not let him go and come like that, he must stay in his cell.

- This is not the captivity that worries him, sir Jaeger, explained the prior. Our first conversation made me realise how he feels lost. He has visions, he hears voices in his sleep, and sometimes very violent images haunt his nights. But he refuses to confide in us. He's convinced we'll never understand these visions, we neither. And then, there is this "something" blocking him. It is as if it held his tongue.

- Do you think it's their god, the "Horned Rat", which prevents him from speaking?

- I doubt it. As a church man, I learned to recognise the god manifestations. In some cases, I have detected another presence than the person to whom I was speaking. This is not the case for him. If this god exists, it didn't manifest before me. In my opinion, this is a kind of instinct of conversation. Something stronger than for us. I've talked to people who told me, under the seal of confession, highly wrongdoing. I was able to see when they were willing to do it, and when they were not. With him, it's different. I feel he _wants_ to talk, but he can't because of a defence reflex he can't control. It's not unwillingness. Remember we are dealing with a Skaven. They probably have automatisms and defence reflexes that we don't know yet.

- Romulus, do you think you could do more? Steiner asked. I'd like to help him, sincerely. Even though he probably made mistakes, I'm sure that basically, he's a good boy.

- To be helped, he should tell us his story, yet he's not at all willing to do this at this time. He hides us things we probably wouldn't approve, and he knows it. He may have confidence in us, but certainly in not our justice.

- In fact, when I had the idea to bring him to you, Ludwig, I was already thinking about something, an idea I hope constructive; I wonder if he wouldn't feel much better if we put him into relationship with Heike.

Jaeger felt a shiver run down the back of the merchant, while his expression gradually tinged with worry.

- To tell you the truth, I had thought about it too, but I don't like this idea.

- Forgive my ignorance, herr Steiner, but who's Heike?

- Heike is my daughter, sir Jaeger. My adopted daughter. She helped me a lot in my studies about Skaven.

- Your daughter is a specialist in this purview?

- Indeed, in a way. But I really hesitate to put her in the presence of this Skaven. He's friendly to me at this time, but he might react in an inappropriate way in front of her. He could have a treacherously behaviour.

- What do you mean by "inappropriate way"? Jaeger asked.

- In fact, frankly, my friend, I must tell you about Heike...

Ludwig Steiner stopped. He glanced uneasily towards Romulus. This said with a smile:

- I think sir Jaeger will understand. After all, if I believe his previous stories and collaboration of these days, we can count on his discretion.

- Right...

The poet didn't conceal his astonishment.

- My discretion? Is there a problem with your daughter?

- Not the way you're thinking, sir Jaeger.

Steiner took the bell he kept at hand, and waved it. A moment later, the servant who had brought the meal stood before him.

- Magdalena, go and tell Heike to join us.

- Uh... you think?

- Don't worry, I trust our guest. Go!

The young woman bowed and left the room. Jaeger was more intrigued.

- Something is telling me your daughter is not the type to show to anyone... am I wrong?

- You must understand, sir Jaeger, said then Romulus. She's an adorable young lady, but a vast majority of the inhabitants of the Empire wouldn't see her so.

- I can tell you she saved my life. I had a family before: a wife and a child. But my poor wife died in childbirth, and my son died by disease two years later.

- I'm sorry to hear that, Jaeger murmured, surprised and a little embarrassed by Steiner's apparent frankness.

- You don't have to, Jaeger, because if life became a fog of loneliness, one day the sun returned to shine brighter than ever. I welcomed Heike when she was a young child, and she gave me back the taste for life. Since then, she's all what I have that matters, and I will do everything for her happiness.

- Are you talking about me? a young voice asked.

A slight figure had appeared in the doorway. Steiner's face brightened.

- Yes, my daughter. Come on, our guests would like to talk to you.

Jaeger turned to the person who approached slowly, and his eyes widened in surprise.

- Ah... I'm beginning to understand what you meant by "specialist".

- Yes, my friend. Heike's my daughter by heart, but by blood, she's also a Daughter of the Horned Rat.

The poet couldn't believe it. Indeed, the being who stood before him was a Skaven. Physiologically, small signs attested to his membership in the fair sex: a thin and short nose, more rounded hips, much less long incisors. She was a little bigger than Gotrek. She wore a sienna cloak which contrasted with her clear coat. Steiner gestured to Jaeger.

- Heike, let me introduce you to sir Felix Jaeger.

- Is it possible? Sir Jaeger? The poet hero?

Her green eyes shone, both amazed and a little intimidated. She curtsied.

- My father often read me stories of your adventures. It is a great honour to meet you, Mister Jaeger!

- Alas, I fear the facts have been embellished by a little too romanticized for my taste publication, ma Dame, but I appreciate the compliment, especially from a fine young woman.

_I called a Skaven "ma Dame"..._ suddenly thought Jaeger.

- Heike lives here for about three years, Steiner explained. Mercenaries have brought her to me so I can study her, like the others. But unlike the others, she was not a monster steeped in anger. It took a lot of patience to create a link, but progressively, I have attached to her, and when I managed to communicate with her, I realised she had become much more to me. I formally adopted her, without specifying her true origin, obviously.

- How did you do? Jaeger asked, suddenly consumed with curiosity.

- Through subterfuge, including Magdalena. She "plays her role" during my public appearances, and so I can show her as my adopted daughter without being questioned. Nobody is aware of the existence of the true Heike outside the area, except Romulus, and you now. Needless to say what would happen if the word would spread so a Skaven lives here, but I know you'll keep the secret.

- If only I had just that secret to keep, the poet quipped. And I congratulate you. You have a very well-bred daughter, who speaks perfectly.

- Father has taught me to speak reikspiel, as well as reading and writing. He hoped I could help him to understand the Skaven society, and I'm doing everything I can to do so. For his part, prior Romulus has helped me not to be afraid and to find answers to my many questions about spirituality.

Steiner coughed.

- I pray thee, sit down. Romulus would like to talk to you.

The girl obeyed wisely. Romulus spoke again.

- My young friend, I'll get right to it. In recent days, we have a "special guest".

- Oh, you're talking about the White Skaven who's locked in the cellar of the pavilion, aren't you?

The merchant made a little surprised pout.

- You knew it?

- Uh... Yes, I saw your assistants prepare the laboratory, as usual.

- Yes, but how do you know he's _white_? I had avoided telling you. And I ordered the staff to do the same.

Jaeger felt a slight chill ruffle the hair of the Skaven, as she was conscious of having made a mistake.

- I... I must admit, it's been a few days I observe him through the grating.

- You did that? Steiner asked.

The girl lowered her head, while her adoptive father said reproachfully:

- You remember though what happened the other day? You promised me never approach the cell!

Steiner had arranged a small room adjacent with a barred basement window overlooking the special chamber, up to feet. He had been able to watch the behaviour of Skaven he had locked in and take notes. The previous year, the ratgirl had watched alone one of Steiner's "residents", through this opening. The Skaven had spotted her, and almost grabbed her head, passing its arm through the bars of the grate. The girl was safe with only a big fright. Since then, the merchant had always been careful to keep his daughter away from the laboratory and research. Heike looked up and Jaeger could see a little tear flickering.

- You're right, Father, and I have no excuse. But... somehow I felt that I could do it. There is something very special with this Skaven.

Steiner's curiosity overcame annoyance. After all, she could probably feel something no Human could experience? He asked in a softer voice:

- Something "special"? Explain to me.

- When I saw the assistants preparing the cell lab, I understood a new Skaven was coming. I then felt fear and sorrow. I wanted to tell you, but I decided to wait and see if I would be strong enough to hold on. I witnessed the arrival of the convoy, and I quietly followed you. I waited in the hallway near the door of the observation room. I was about to leave, when I perceived the odour. Usually, Skaven smell very bad, and emit a fragrance reminiscent of mouldy meat and urine mix. However, that smell was not unpleasant at all. So, curiosity led me to see, and I realised he was not like the others. He's so special, completely white, with his horns! I knew their existence thanks to the books, but I've never seen one!

Jaeger then explained:

- Ma Dame, you must know the White Skaven are the most dangerous. Not physically, but in terms of intellect. They are better educated than others, and are at least as intelligent as you and me. Generally, they use this intelligence to make evil, from our point of view. In addition, they are capable of handling very powerful magical energies. I had the opportunity to face one a several times, and it was not piece of cake!

- Yes, sir Jaeger, but this one has nothing to do with all those that were in my hometown. He is... different. He doesn't inspire the same emotions as all the others do. He seems very sad, too. I feel sorry for him. Sharing instead of fleeing, that's what Shallya teaches us.

- Certainly, my child, approved Romulus.

- Heike, prior Romulus thinks we could make him more confident if you meet him. Maybe if he talks to a Skaven, he might be more able to confide to him – so to you.

Heike looked at the prior with great incredulous eyes.

- Really? Would you let me approach him? For real? Oh, what a joy!

- I don't agree with this idea, my daughter, said Steiner. It worries me.

- Why, Father?

Steiner cleared his throat, and gently took the hand of the young girl.

- Heike, you must understand this Skaven is not like you, on a psychological level. We believe the only approach he could have with girls of your kind is what you saw when you were in their burrows.

Heike lowered her head again, without saying a word.

_Given to the nature of these creatures, I guess the breeding season shouldn't be a cakewalk, especially for their women_, Jaeger thought.

- You see, I can't help thinking this could be risky.

- Yet... he really looks different, Father. Whenever you bring a Skaven here, I heard it screaming in anger, scratching the walls and the door, I felt its smell of rage and it made me very scared. Sometimes, I understood that _it_ also felt me, it redoubled its fury, and I couldn't even sleep at night. But this one looks nice. He doesn't evoke me a caged animal. He's not horrible, either! I like to look at him; I wish I could do more.

- We spoke to him several times, your father and myself, explained the prior. I agree with you, he's not like any other. First, someone taught him to speak reikspiel, and pretty well. Then he agrees to communicate without violence, although he's still so secret about himself.

- Of course, me neither, I'm not afraid of finding myself in front of him, Steiner went on. But that doesn't reassure me to leave you alone with him. It's true, he doesn't look as beastly as those we have studied, but there is a risk that feeling your presence panics his senses, and he tries to… hurt you, you see?

- I don't think so, Father. You see, while I looked at him, he didn't see me, but he perceived my smell, I'm sure. It didn't excite him, contrary; he seems calming as time passes. I even have the impression he has less trouble falling asleep, and his sleep is less hectic, too.

- The guards told me he was quieter at night, confirmed Romulus.

- I want to meet him, Father, said Heike. With your permission. If he's so miserable, it will surely give him comfort to see he is not alone!

Gradually, Steiner felt he would have no other argument of deterrence. He looked into Heike's eyes again.

- I don't want to force you, my darling daughter, you know it. You will see him only whenever you wish, and we'll take all precautions, as we are not sure that he sincerely wants to behave differently.

- I have a good first impression. Really, I want to talk to him. Maybe it will make him feel good, and it will make me feel good, too.

- That's right, don't forget she can discuss with a fellow, what she never did, reminded Romulus.

- Are you really sure you want to try?

- Yes, Father, please. I will be cautious, I promise you. And if he has a really naughty behaviour, I won't try to approach him again. You have my word, and I won't derogate, this time.

The merchant turned to Jaeger.

- And you, what do you think about it?

- Well, it seems your daughter is sure of her, and this could actually bring positive. If it can reassure you, I can accompany her. Gotrek can too, and we'll protect her.

- No, sir Jaeger, it would make him too suspicious. I wish I could talk to him alone. You just have to stay behind the door, just to be sure.

All eyes turned to Steiner. This gave a deep sigh.

- Sir Jaeger, you will remain on standby. My daughter, if this Skaven behaves in a way that shocks you, you cry as loud as you can, and you, sir Jaeger, you control him. Without killing him, if possible, after all, he may not be fully responsible for controlling his impulses, and it would be a shame to lose all that he could bring to us on a whim. But Heike comes first, so do not hesitate to use extreme measures, if necessary, to protect the virtue of my daughter.

- As you wish, herr Steiner.

Psody was sat cross-legged on the mat, eyes closed, in meditation. He was looking deep into his mind for a message, any indication on his visions. He then heard the characteristic sound of the door opening. He didn't pay any attention, preferring to continue to think, as a special musk tickled his nostrils. He lifted an eyelid, and found himself speechless, his eyes like saucers.

- Hello, simply said a little intimidated, but very friendly voice.

He shook his head vigorously, rubbed his eye-sockets. To be sure, he chewed the tip of his tail. No, he wasn't dreaming. Before him stood a Skaven. A real flesh and bones Skaven. It had a cream-colored coat, with a large brown spot visible on its left thigh. It wore a precious fabric cloth.

- What... who are you? he uttered in queekish.

- Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't understand, said the Skaven in reikspiel, with amusement.

- Err, uh... I mean... what are you doing here? he went on in the imperial language.

- I live here, I was adopted by herr Steiner. I waited a long time to meet someone like you, and so far, I'm not disappointed.

Something tickled Psody's brain. For the first time in weeks, he was dealing with a Skaven who didn't want his immediate death. A Skaven who spoke reikspiel and was dressed in a Human garment. He quickly understood it had to spend a lot of time in humans, which included its "father", the house master. But there was something else. This gentle and unusually high voice, these more delicate features... suddenly, he had a revelation that explained everything.

- You... you're... a female?

- To begin with, you must call me otherwise, replied the Skaven, raising her finger with a mischievous smile. In reikspiel, "female" is for animals.

Psody clapped his hand over his mouth and felt the blood flushing to his cheeks. He thought what Lady Katel told him about "how to treat a lady ", and suddenly felt very embarrassed. The thin voice continued:

- For me, you have to say "girl" or "woman". Or "Heike".

- "Heike"?

- That's how my father called me. Before, I didn't have a name.

- I... I... well, my name is Psody.

The White Skaven was unable to say a word, petrified by this unreal appearance. In his eyes, Skaven girls were nothing but miserable grotesque creatures, huge masses of flesh and fat locked in dark cellars, barely able to crawl and unable to articulate two coherent words. This one had absolutely nothing of an ordinary breeder. She didn't inspire him patronizing pity or disgust. Instead, he was assailed by a succession of emotions all more enjoyable than the other as he gazed her. How her body was smooth! How her face was captivating, and sparkled with kindness! It was at this time he realised it was her smell he had felt these last days, which had kept him company, and which had gradually ease his sleep.

- I... I do... what do you want to me?

- I want to talk to you. Get to know you. Share something with you.

- My master… told me a day that fema… Skaven girls couldn't... do anything but lay. They were... too limited.

- Well, I think he lied to you. I didn't have children yet, but I manage to be useful so far. I help my father understand the Skaven.

Psody nodded slowly, trying to assimilate this new concept.

- My father and prior Romulus evoked me your distress, continued the apparition. I feel it, and I really want to help you.

- Romulus taught you the laws of his goddess?

- Yes, but even without, I would really make you understand that there are other ways for us to live than those of Skaven cities.

Heike sat on the bed, next to Psody. This, very intimidated, went a little way. She looked into his eyes, and murmured:

- I lived in a Skaven city, too. You know how they treat girls, don't you?

- Y... yes.

- And I feel that you are different from all the others. Your face is Skaven, but your heart has become... something else. Like mine. At first I was like you. I was scared to death, I didn't understand anything except that I would suffer all my life long, and then these people found me and brought me here. I met the man who made me his daughter, I learned and I accepted. I give you my word you can you trust these Humans. They have good intentions. I beg you, trust them.

She held out her hand. Psody remembered the last time someone had made this gesture towards him, and the lessons he could had learn. He looked at the smiling face of the young ratgirl, then very gently took her fingers between his own knuckles. The contact was soft, warm and tender at once. Finally, he dared to smile in turn.

Steiner and Romulus were deep in conversation around a glass of wine, when the door of the dining room opened on his adopted daughter.

- Heike, you...

The house master stopped when he saw the girl was not alone. She was holding Psody by his hand. The both Humans looked at them, unpleasantly, surprised but behind the White Skaven, Jaeger thumbed up discreetly, ensuring that everything was under control.

- Well... come in.

Psody walked, faced the two adults, and bowed his head.

- My lord, prior Romulus... all my life, I've been afraid. This is how Skaven live. But since I left their society and learned how yours works, I feel it is not normal to be afraid, and it makes me crazy. I'm tired, I want it to stop. Help me. Please...

Steiner made a small gesture to invite the Skaven to sit. He obeyed, and continued in a tied tone:

- I'll tell you about me, and everything I did. No more lies, no more concealment. After that, you do what you want of me.

- Oh, don't be too melodramatic, my young friend, joked Steiner.

- Maybe you'll be more comfortable to talk if I go away? Jaeger suggested.

- No, sir Jaeger. You are now the four people I agree to entrust. I don't want to hide anything from you, I couldn't bear it. But, when I'm done... I understand if you decide to oust me.

- I don't think we come to that, Steiner said. Relax, and take all the time you need.

Psody told everything, from his first contact with his five brothers until his arrival to Gottliebschloss. The sacking of Niklasweiler, the destruction of the Dryad, the ceremony during which he ate warpstone, his meeting with Klaus of Maraksberg who had saved Chitik's life, and who was shot in the back by him as thanking. By respect for Heike, he didn't dwell on his first and only night with a breeder, all understood what had happened. He also confessed what he had done in Brissuc: his plans to overthrow the Empire, the Skaven he had killed to impose his authority, the slaves he had tortured to make them more obedient. Then he spoke about Katel, who had treated him and helped him to expand his field of vision. He spoke of his ploys to disrupt the siege of Jourg of Clan Moulder, and so came to his surrender to the lord Gottlieb.

Throughout his story, nobody interrupted him more than a few seconds, the time to ask one or two simple questions. He kept his cool, even if the emotion raised his heart repeatedly. But when, he spoke of his brothers, at the request of the prior, Diassyon's comforting sympathy and Chitik's unconditional dedication, it was too much. He collapsed on the table in tears, overwhelmed with remorse. How he regretted not having better treated his blood brothers! Apart the deceitful Klur, they had never been deliberately unfair, and had always supported him. Even the miserable Moly of Clan Pestilens had perhaps qualities he had failed to distinguish.

Psody wept for several minutes, with sincerity. The prior succeeded in finding the right words to comfort him, and he calmed down a bit. Dead tired, he returned obediently to his cell, accompanied by the prior and Heike. Left alone in his bed, for the first time in months, he fell asleep without difficulty. The next day, the Humans left him rest. In the afternoon, exceptionally, they even allowed him to leave the cave, and walk in the park under their supervision.

Psody could walk completely in the open air, he had not done since his revival in this cell at Gottliebschloss. Thus he became aware of the layout of the property.

The domain of Ludwig Steiner was rather large. Nota s much as the Brissuc colony, of course, but it included a park that required a good twenty minutes to go around walking unhurriedly at first glance. The room in which he had been installed was part of a small house located in a far corner of the park. Opposite, Steiner had a stable where four horses were housed. The merchant strongly advised against the Skaven White to approach it, because quadrupeds were very nervous in the presence of ratmen, even Heike. Finally, on the other side of the property, was the grand mansion. Cobbled paths of white brick connected the different buildings between them, and everything else was covered with manicured lawn. Some trees grew in the middle of the grassy areas, as well as all along the high walls of the property.

Steiner explained Psody all this space was located behind the house. The front overlooked on a large grid that opened directly onto the street. The mansion itself was great: two floors plus the ground floor, a side wing on each flank of the main building... It was sober, and had no decorations outrageous. However, the park itself was very dense. The little ratman discovered something that was completely new to him: the organization of a park. He had never had the opportunity to see a place where nature was methodically arranged. There was a kind of copper statue shaped fish where water went constantly off. What surprised the young Skaven the most was a whole space where a multitude of colourful flowers grew.

The weather was superb; the spring was well advanced, to the delight of Heike, who showed each plant to the White Skaven. She spoke with passion, he listened intently, and the atmosphere was relaxed. Steiner and Romulus were now convinced of the sincerity of their protected. This was not the case for Jaeger, who kept a spark of suspicion. Walking between the two other men, he watched the two Skaven sitting on a bench a few yards away. He decided to express his fears.

- Honestly, prior Romulus, I don't know if I should be touched or terrified. Are you aware of the danger we all incur now? To have one Skaven at home was already pretty dangerous, but two! And opposite sex! It is a storm about to break out!

He paused for a moment before suggesting:

- It might be safer to castrate Psody.

- What are you saying, sir Jaeger? Steiner took offence. Aren't you realising which worlds you spoke? We're talking about an intelligent being, with feelings and self-esteem, not an animal! You may see a threat, I see two children happy to get acquainted.

- Two children in their head, but physiologically, they are much more developed, and you know it! Jaeger replied. If we're not careful, they could be tempted to let their species survival instinct express itself. If you believe the studies, within a year, Heike can give life to several dozen individuals, who may do so two years later, and so on. We'll have to deal with a whole colony! And I have no illusion, if it ever happens, and known, and it will because this kind of thing is uncontrollable once it is running, the entire domain will be set on fire! We would have all the priests of Sigmar and the witch hunters of the Empire on our back!

- I talked to Psody much longer than you, herr Jaeger, and I got to know him. He's not a wild beast ready to pounce on my daughter at the first opportunity, I'm sure now. Or... are you implying my daughter wouldn't be responsible enough?

Seeing Steiner's crimson face, Jaeger realised he had spoken too quickly.

- Uh...! I beg your pardon, herr Steiner.

Steiner softened but still had an angry eye. The prior Romulus intervened:

- I understand your concerns, sir Jaeger. As a priest of Shallya, it's part of my responsibility to teach these things to young minds. I took the initiative to talk with them this morning, with the agreement of Ludwig, to resolve this question. They are well aware of what they are capable of, and the trouble it could cause. On the other hand, even without this risk, they don't really want to try now. Heike doesn't feel ready for it. Although this may be the only opportunity she has to procreate consent with a person of her species, she prefers to wait to be sure she wants to, and so far she had never really asked the question to herself.

- Because she had not to before meeting Psody, supposed Jaeger.

- She told me about the life she led in her hometown, Steiner added. When I welcomed her, she had just been in age to be used as a breeder, and had not yet been... "put to use" by Skaven. But she saw how were treated her more mature girl counterparts. And what she saw didn't really encourage her. It is normal she's still a while scared.

- Psody was well understood, Ludwig. He promised me never to touch her without her permission. He also told me that his first experience with a layer caused him a violent reaction – in fact, this is what triggered his ability to receive visions from his god. For a few hours, he lost his mind, and felt very badly. He never knew what he had done during his absence, but he doesn't want that again... or take the risk of accidentally hurt your daughter.

Jaeger couldn't believe it.

- You're saying that Skaven would increase the welfare of someone else before his? A girl? Incredible! Thoughtfulness of a child of the Horned Rat... He is really not like the others!

- And so, they are not animals driven by their "species survival instinct", contrary to what you could insinuate, Steiner replied harshly. And I ask you to hold your tongue vis-à-vis my daughter!

The poet didn't dare answer, still confused to have underestimated the both young Skaven before their protector. Romulus said:

- I have to leave, I must go to my temple service.

The other two Human saluted him, and he left the property.

Magdalena, the young buxom maid, joined the two Skaven. The little white ratman bowed.

- Hello, lady Magdalena!

- Hello! Hello, Heike!

- How are you, Magda?

- Very good!

Psody seemed a little surprised.

- You know each other well?

- Yes, young Psody, the Human said. I helped master Steiner to educate her.

- It's true, she was like a mother, added the Skaven. And today, she's a bit a big sister.

- Actually, to be honest, in terms of Altdorf laws, I am Heike Steiner, Magdalena explained.

- I do not understand.

Magdalena sat in turn on the bench while the ratgirl explained:

- You see, for Humans, when a child is born in a family, the parents must go to a lawyer to declare its existence. Must paperwork, provide information... You have it, in Skaven society?

- Nothing! We are born, we are marked by our Clan chief, and then that's it!

- For us, it works in an official way. This is especially useful for inheritance.

The small White Skaven blinked.

- How so?

- When someone dies, usually you can't for sure get all his possessions anyhow, Magdalena explained. The disappeared gave instructions for lawyers, to know how all he had is redistributed.

- Ah... In Skaven, when there is a dead, the other get everything they can, and the rest is abandoned.

- So, normally, a man who has children gives all he has for these children when he dies. This is not always so simple, but usually it's like this. The advantage is that it is more organised. The downside is it can cause big problems. Families were torn apart because children felt that the shares were not fair. And regularly, some children kill their parents for this legacy.

Psody felt his brow creasing.

- To kill someone who doesn't attack you is forbidden, for Humans, isn't it?

- Yes, and kill someone for money is a severely punished crime, especially if the victim is one of your parents.

- It never occurred to me to think about it, Heike added. My father is a good man, and Shallya prohibits in an absolute way to take a life, even as self-defence.

- Okay... Heike, your father has prepared this... this "legacy"?

- Yes. He never spoke to me about me, but he's a very providing man. There is only a problem: raising a Skaven is a heresy, and it can send you to prison before going on the block. My nature is kept secret for the outer world.

- My role is to pretend to be Heike for lawyers of the Empire continued Magdalena.

- Ah, I understand now! the young White Skaven exclaimed. For the Human society... you are Heike!

- Yes, and so far, it always worked.

Suddenly Psody realised something that he had never thought.

- So... then... that means you've never left this place?

The smile of the ratgirl decreased slightly. She turned to Magdalena.

- My friend, can you... I need...

- Don't worry, I understand.

The servant stood up and walked back to the mansion.

- I prefer to address this issue without her.

- You don't have to.

- No, but something tells me that... I have to talk to you alone. You know, I thought about that night. I think we have more in common than I thought, the first time I saw you, the night you arrived.

- So you had already seen me in the cell. I had smelled you.

The White Skaven realised something that didn't please him.

- You watched me all the time?

- Long enough, I admit. Several times.

- Even when I was… without clothes?

- I didn't want to be mischievous, I assure you! I didn't see you as a common animal! Instead like... a very different Skaven, a Skaven as I hoped to meet one day. I'm sorry if it offended you. I would be upset at your place. Now I'll see you face, whenever you agree.

As there was no malice or mockery in her voice, the little ratman relented. After all, he decided, it was not really bad, and with the way the Skaven treated their women, it was only fair that one of them might take a bit of him.

- In addition, I don't know if you have already been told it, but... I think you're beautiful. You're much more pleasant to watch than all the horrible disgusting creatures which were here before you. And I feel your soul is beautiful, even if it is tinged with a few dark clouds, which hide a huge sadness. You're handsome, Psody.

Psody felt his face stretching with surprise. He felt especially in these words something deeper, something decent, something eloquent. This ended to convince him.

- I've already been told that, but never with so conviction. Skaven multiply flattery when they want to preserve their life, and when I was appointed as Grey Seer, I have received many. Or, you... this is the first time I hear that, but I feel it, too.

- My first memories are hazy and vague, and my life has really started between these walls. So, yes, I only know the Steiner domain and its inhabitants. I never stepped outside these walls. I don't know what it is to walk in the middle of a crowd. I don't know the sensations you feel when you wander on a market place, travel in a big campaign, stroll in the woods, walk on the sand of a beach, or simply being in the middle a group of people like you, with the same attributes. The outside world is forbidden to me, because if I was taken, I would be executed, and my father imprisoned, or worse. All I know of the world is only through books and stories, and I know most of these are myths. But you knew the real world, didn't you?

- Yes. For Skaven, I was someone important, many obeyed me, and I went out to the surface several times. But, you know...

He saw the green eyes of the young Skaven girl shining with envy. Then he asked:

- How are you treated, here?

- Very good! I have a father who loves me, who has done everything for me, and I would do everything for him, too. I have a sister, I have the prior, and my father's closest household. I know I can always count on them. But you, a chosen one by their god? You should to be an example to follow, an idol for yours, weren't you?

- Heike ... it's not so simple.

She seemed genuinely surprised.

- I remember vaguely with me, they were... they treated me badly, but you, one of their chosen ones? Didn't you have a privileged position? Right, your brother betrayed you, but what about the others?

- Nobody is safe in the Skaven society. Those who are at the same level spend their time fighting each other when they are not fighting other people. Only the strongest survive. You saw me, I am small and weak. If I hadn't received the gift of the Horned Rat, I wouldn't have survived the nursery. And even if you are a priest of their god, you're not safe from their treachery. Others flatten at your feet, but as soon as you turn them back, they try to stab-cutthroat you. They despise you, they betray you at every opportunity, and the more they seem docile, the more they are devious. Nobody ever truly liked me... except Chitik. I have known him only three moons – I mean three months. He's the only one, with Diassyon. He was also good to me. But all the others were afraid of me, hated me, envied me, no one has ever talked to me like you have. When I was raised by the Lady Katel in the swamp, she made me realise that Skaven do not know the... the... I forgot! Ah yes! Love!

- You don't know what Love is?

- No.

Without realising it, the young White Skaven had left a few tears flowing down his cheeks. Heike gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

- You're right. You also have been locked into a sinister prison. This prison was not a cage, but loneliness. Even being surrounded by Skaven, you've always felt alone. Loneliness is always unbearable. But I'll help you leave this cage there. And Romulus will, too. Everything you need is the key, and we'll do everything so that you can find, and get out of your shell!

Psody nodded with a thoughtful slightly spout. Suddenly, he saw something that made his heart literally jump in his chest.

Steiner finished summarise the last two sessions with his guest to the poet. The latter, anxious to relax the atmosphere a bit, decided to show complimenting.

- Well! The least we can say is that you have made impressive progress!

- Didn't we, sir Jaeger? It is especially to Psody to be commended. He really lived up to my expectations. No, he surpassed them far beyond. Thanks to him, I was able to confirm or refute a lot of ideas, and learn new ones.

- You will become an expert about Skaven!

- Unfortunately, we're coming to the end. Indeed, even Psody has his limits. He knows many things, but he's far from knowing everything.

Jaeger felt a little disappointed, but he understood.

- What shall come next?

- Well, I have a promise to keep. He helped me a lot, he finally accepted to unveil us his past, it's time to find out the meaning to the visions that haunt. Romulus proposed him to start this work tomorrow, and I had another idea: I'll write to a friend who is versed in the arts of magic.

- A mage?

- I trust him completely. He knows our secret, in fact he's very involved in my research.

- Right.

Jaeger straightened the pin of his red wool cloak.

- I'm going away, mein Herr, and leave town. Gotrek and I have to do.

- It was a real pleasure to meet you, sir. Jaeger. If you need something, one day...

- It's very generous of you. I won't hesitate.

Jaeger vowed never to involve the merchant in anything; his allies had a tendency to disappear by force of circumstance.

- Feel free to visit me at your next trip to Altdorf. After all, you may have the will to see how things go on for our two little pups, you too.

- You read my mind, mein Herr.

Steiner threw a glance at the bench where he had left the two Skaven, and raised his eyebrows with a great surprise.

- What the hell is he doing?

Fearing to see Psody brutalising Heike, Jaeger turned on his heels, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

- Gosh!

The two men descended the stairs leading to the entrance of the house, and stood before a curious picture. Steiner gaped in surprise to the highest degree by the attitude of his daughter.

Heike was on the ground, laughing. She laughed out loud as the merchant never had heard. She was holding her sides, she rolled in the grass, she was even forced to stop to catch his breath. This hardly surprised Steiner as he saw Psody's posture. The little ratman was suspended on the top of a small tree, clinging to the trunk, trembling in every limb, groaning "Make it go! Make it go!" At the foot of the tree stood the little cat of the domain, watching this strange bird with a puzzled look.


	18. Out of the dobby

In the cell, the tension rose with the temperature. For two days, the Skaven had received nothing to eat or drink. The atmosphere was moist and sticky, the air became unbreathable. The ears of ratmen vibrated under constant hum of thousands of flies flying above them. They were all sweaty, and tried to move as least as possible to save the smallest spark of energy. No one said nothing. None knew exactly what would happen, or when, and all were terrified, even though they didn't dare show it.

One of them couldn't hold back his fear. He was the youngest in the group. This small Skaven with beige spotted beige black coat was holding his arm, in tears. He was one of Diassyon's skirmishers. His name was Kapish. During the onslaught of marauders, he was knocked down by a horse and had his arm broken. As he had found nothing in the cage to make a splint, he had to do without. The injury had worsened, his muscles and tendons were swollen under his coat, and the pain became excruciating.

- I cannot stand! whined the Skryre. We're doomed-lost!

- Shut up, grunted his neighbour.

- We'll all die here! Kapish moaned again, his voice more acute, up to hysteria. I don't want! I'm scared-scared!

Exasperated, Rool grabbed a stone and threw it at the Skryre. The stone crashed two inches away the skull of the beige Skaven, who jumped and curled in on himself. He didn't say anything else, too frightened.

Nobody else had responded. Everyone knew that the smell of panic was contagious among Skaven, and it was better to suppress as soon as possible. And yet, they didn't think less. The fear was not the only thing that tugged the stomach of the sons of the Horned Rat. Tôrkh of Clan Moulder was particularly nervous.

- Eat... I want to eat!

- They want to starve us! squeaked a second.

- All die-die by hunger, nothin' to eat-eat! wailed a third.

Tôrkh turned slowly to the bottom of the cell.

- Indeed, something remains.

He gritted his teeth, distinguishing what he coveted. Near the wall, there was the body of Moly of Clan Pestilens. Rot, already present in him before, was devouring him with twice greed. His decrepit carcass emitted a strong odour of carrion, and hundreds of flies span around him. His skin fell in places, his blackened muscles had swarming maggots, his whole chest had become a source of infection, but with a close look, there was probably something to eat yet. Tôrkh couldn't wait to nibble a leg or an arm of the Plague Monk, but he had to deal with an obstacle.

Diassyon of Clan Skryre had moved the lifeless body of the Pestilens, and stood close. Something had changed in his gaze, which was even more hectic than usual. He whizzed, and when a Skaven other than Chitik approached, he straightened with an aggressive hiss. He was determined to protect the body of his brother as long as possible, and make a meal with was not an option for him.

His determination irritated Tôrkh.

- Chitik, will you explain this degenerated he's doing something useless?

- You saw me try, Tôrkh. He doesn't want to know anything.

Kapish jumped and ran to his head.

- Chief, Chief! Please tell me that you have an idea! You have such a great-powerful brain! You can perforce find a solution to get us out of here!

Alas, the brown Skaven seemed completely absent. His brilliant intellect appeared drowned in a toxic mist, composed with pus, larvae and rotten meat. No Skaven understood why, apart Chitik of course. In the depths of his tortured mind, Diassyon felt something he had never experienced, guilt. He could have done something for his pathetic brother. He, the smartest of the breed, felt responsible, and this tragic event was not only a failure, but also a terrible loss.

None of this came to the mind of the rat-ogre trainer. He dragged himself to the warlock Engineer. The smell lifted his heart. When he found himself less than a yard, he growled:

- Diassyon... Stop it.

Diassyon looked up in a start, and hissed in anger. A long thread of saliva flowed from between his teeth, and dripped on the dusty ground. Tôrkh continued:

- Diassyon, leave us a bit.

This time, the brown Skaven gave a brief and wild yelp.

- Do... not touch!

The Moulder became more eager.

- You cling to this corpse like a fly on big dung! It's useless! We can do nothing for him, Diassyon!

- Let... let... let him alone...

- He, by cons, can still make himself useful one last time. We are hungry. I'm hungry! _I'm hungry_!

- Me too! a second Skaven screamed.

- And me too-too! screeched a third.

- You... you'll be… sick! Diassyon still squeaked. Like him!

This argument was more convincing to the Skaven, who no longer moved. They retreated, took counsel softly. When they had finished, Tôrkh walked again.

- Diassyon, we prefer to take the risk. Maybe if we eat, we'll be sick, but we'll have a chance to get out. If we don't eat, we all starve to death for sure.

- Don't touch... my brother... or you'll regret it!

- You're not in condition to defend yourself against all of us! Now, my patience is very thin! Either you let us eat, or we will kill you, and both of you'll be eaten!

Chitik's hand landed heavily on Tôrkh's shoulder and swung him by force.

- If you touch Diassyon, I'll kill you.

The Moulder was in such a state that the Black Skaven didn't impressed him no more.

- Damn, Chitik, do something! If we don't take forces, we all die here! I'm hungry, I'm hungry!

- Me too, but I won't let anyone touch my brothers.

Tôrkh recoiled exceeded.

- Oh, brother stories, blood ties, it only brings problems! Why did Vellux have this silly idea?

Once again, he took part in other Skaven, and pointed to the Stormvermin.

- Hey, what if we kill him? There must be enough meat on his bones for everyone! Diassyon will have no one to protect him longer, and we can use Moly!

Chitik stepped back and raised his paws, ready to defend himself. The five Skaven who followed Tôrkh hesitated. Although the captive had weakened him, Chitik was still a formidable opponent, and in their condition, even six against one, the outcome was uncertain.

The Black Skaven thought. A good way to calm everyone was to kill one of the Skaven. He wanted to take care of Tôrkh, but realised it was not a good idea. The other five Skaven might be angry and attack. Then he noticed Kapish, sat further. He walked with a resolute step towards the young Skryre. When he was close to him, it looked up.

- What is it?

- I don't enjoy, Kapish.

And the Black Skaven grabbed Kapish with a hand by his neck, and lifted him.

- What are you doing?

Chitik looked him straight in the eyes, with a heartbroken but resigned stare. Then he put his hands on his shoulders and neck. Kapish sobbed, terrified:

- No! No! Don't do it, Chitik! No!

But the huge Black Skaven didn't listen. With a sharp movement, he broke his neck. The unfortunate Skaven started a second, then fell to the ground like a disjointed puppet. Chitik grabbed the now Kapish's lifeless corpse, lifted it with a hand, and scanned the audience. All Skaven stared him, dumbfounded, apart Diassyon, still bent over Moly.

The Stormvermin spotted Tôrkh. He threw Kapish in his direction. The young Skaven crashed at the foot of the Moulder. Chitik growled:

- Like that, he has no more fear, no more pain, and you have your grub. So feast yourself, and let my brothers alone!

Tôrkh fell on Kapish without delay and bit his teeth into his flesh, quickly followed by his five companions. They stayed a few minutes to compete for the meat and guts of the poor little Skryre.

Diassyon didn't react, he thought of nothing but Moly. And then suddenly the curtains slid open again, revealing the arena.

Four Mutants were waiting on the other side of the bars, waving curious devices. The Skryre thought at first it was fire-throwers, but they seemed completely organic, and looked more like huge colorful beetles clinging to the back of the Mutants, with a long appendage ending in a horny cone. Aescos Karkadourian walked.

- So, my friends, are you properly installed? It's so important for me to see my guests the most comfortable possible!

The Sorcerer of Slaanesh chuckled when he heard the enraged whistles and squeaks emitted by the prisoners.

- I've been thinking, and I decided to spice up our relationship a little more. I'll give you one more chance, giant rats. I told you that if the awful rotten Skaven outweighed my creatures, you would be free. He failed, but I am ready to renew the bet with you, the big black brute.

Chitik didn't understand all the words of Karkadourian's speech but seized the general sense. He approached the bars to better talk with the wizard.

- You see, Skaven, I deal with your chief. A warpstone arrow, and farewell, big black rat. Then I totally disrupt the mind of your other black friend with my magic, and he literally lost his head. The other black ratmen ended at the hands of my marauders. Four of them, however, caught my attention. You, your other friend who whines at the bottom of the cell, and the other two that say nothing. Three of them could be nice test subjects. And you, I wonder how far you can go. I will test you in the same way as the sickly Skaven.

Chitik felt the foam up in his mouth at the mention of Moly. Karkadourian continued:

- I've finished new creations, and it's time to try them. If you vanquish, I'll release all of you. Otherwise, you will die, and all the others will follow one after another. I don't have so many opportunities to experiment on Skaven, so I will.

Diassyon, who had listened to the man-thing, swallowed his saliva. He slowly approached Chitik, and put his hand on his back.

- All of our hopes rest on you, brother. Do you understand?

- I think so.

- Listen to me, Chitik: you're going to fight against the creatures of this damn warlock.

- I can do it, brother!

- I think so too, but the cursed breeder risks make your head spin like Moly.

- I won't permit it!

- I know, but you have to be careful! This female is like those of the colony: her smell may bewitch you and make you lose all your battle might!

- But then, what can I do, in your opinion?

Karkadourian ordered:

- Enough chattering! Open the cage. Big beast, I give you thirty seconds to get out. If you're too slow, or if you try anything, my acid spitters will melt you all!

The wizard left the amphitheater to regain his place in height, while a fifth Mutant – a fat man-thing with three arms and scaly protrusions on its cheekbones – approached raising a bunch of keys. The Skaven Black trembled nervously. Diassyon put his hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in his eyes.

- You're our only chance Chitik! The strongest of us!

- Unleash your anger, and kill-kill! Rool added, eager to see the wizard dead.

Tôrkh said nothing, but Chitik discerned the bloodthirsty glow deep in his eyes. The weird-thing opened the door, and the Stormvermin exited. The guard closed the gate and swiftly left the arena, accompanied by the four spitters, leaving the Black Skaven alone.

Chitik looked up at the podium. He saw the wizard installed in his chair. His lips curled over his teeth tight with anger.

_I'm not a poor half eaten by rot Plague Monk! I'll crush-demolish all of your creatures!_

The huge gate opened. The Black Skaven heard a sound that was reminiscent of a horse neighing, more acute. Two creatures entered the arena – rather two clawed she-things mounted on grotesque animals, which vaguely resembled horses. These quadrupeds had blackish, smooth and slightly viscous like a frog skin, their hooves were filled with long claws, their sharp teeth flashed out of their foaming mouth, and a reddish glow shone in their eyes. The she-things burst into a loud laugh, and heeled their mount. Both horses rushed and trotted swiftly around the Black Skaven, forming a circle. Clouds of dust rose up in the noise of clawed hooves. Chitik bent his legs, raised his hands, ready to react. One of the she-things broke the circle and rushed toward him, holding forth its fearsome grip. Chitik rolled over, avoided the attack. The other was already on him, and was about to knock him down. The animal encamped on its hind legs with a furious trumpeting and sank forward with all its weight. Once again, the Stormvermin narrowly dodged the kick with a leap backwards.

He screamed with rage, exasperated. It was time to fight back. He threw himself on one of the beasts, claws out, and planted them in the springy flesh of the horse. The creature snorted in pain. The she-thing struck with the back of its claw the nose of the ratman. The Black Skaven rolled on the sand, but rose in the movement. His hair was ruffled, he was panting, and the sand and sweat itched. He squinted, searching for the slightest movement, while the horses were revolving around him again, more slowly. One of the she-things hooted, and the two horses drew a long, hard as the thong of a whip tongue. In a heartbeat, Chitik felt his two wrists gripped so hard blood stopped to circulate in his fingers. The two horses backed, and the Stormvermin found himself his arms torn. He felt a sharp pain in his tendons, strong but still bearable.

The most serious was the arrival of a third Mutant, also on an amazing mount, a kind of gigantic chicken without feathers with a long trunk of flesh as a beak. The rider itself wore boiled leather clothes and a long tentacle fitted with pointed protrusions ivory gushed from between its shoulder blades. It was brandishing a long sword with a serrated blade. With its free hand it snapped his finger to Chitik, and giant bird ran ahead.

In the cage, the Skaven screamed in panic. Diassyon squealed so loud he felt his vocal cords cracking.

Chitik saw nothing but the sharp saw-toothed sword quickly approaching. He had only a few seconds to act. With a wild roar, he pulled with all his strength on both arms, and eventually brought them together. The two frog-skinned beasts skidded on the ground, irresistibly driven by the extraordinary strength of the Black Skaven, and then collided. Not violently, but they were close enough to each other to be on the path of the trunk featherless bird. The rider made another gesture to stop the race of its mount. Chitik bit quick succession the two tongues that still retained him, and severed them. Both horses stamped in pain, shaking their head, sending a few squirts of blood around.

The Black Skaven still felt the sticky tongues on his forearms, but he was free. The giant chicken raised up its trunk with a loud sucking. Chitik guessed that the creature was trying to spit out something towards him. He was right. It sent a stream of yellow and smoking vomit, which went to flush of his hip.

One of the she-things, the one on the wounded horse, rushed again. Chitik leapt forward, grabbed with both hands the head of the mount and made a twist so violent he threw it to the ground. The she-thing lost its balance and fell from the saddle. The Stormvermin took the opportunity to tear its throat with his claws. The she-thing tumbled with a surprised gurgling.

Chitik raised his arms with a roar of defiance. In the cage, the Skaven squealed with joy, encouraged their comrade. But the fight was not over, and the Mutant on the giant chicken returned to the charge, waving its sword. The Black Skaven anticipated the move and jumped once again, with both hands clutching the arms of his opponent. He slammed the weird-thing on the floor, and bit its neck. His powerful jaws cut leather, flesh and neck as easily as if he had planted his teeth in a pat of butter. Hot, thick and frothy blood gushed in waves, splashing his black coat.

Again, the other prisoners cheered the Stormvermin. Karkadourian had a small and admiring pout. The fight would end quickly, but the show was quality. And still, he was taking notes, making sure not to forget any detail.

There remained only one she-thing on frog skin horse. It seemed to have understood that the ratman was a formidable opponent, and stood back as if it was thinking about what to do. Chitik had an idea. He returned with a kick the limp body of the Mutant, revealing its back tentacle. He firmly grabbed the rough flesh snake and twirled more quickly the weird-thing above his head. He threw it with all his might to the woman-thing. The latter, surprised by such a nerve, reined its horse, forcing hit to take a few steps aside. The improvised projectile crashed into a crack against the stone wall of the arena. The Black Skaven left no respite to the she-thing. He grabbed the sword of the Mutant, ran as fast as he could to his prey, and planted the serrated blade in the skull of the horse. He split its head up and down, and the mount passed away in an instant. It wavered, before falling to the side.

The clawed she-thing didn't stay like the other one. It jumped down from its position, and received smoothly itself on the ground. It raised its claw before its face, and stepped back, without stopping looking Chitik. It took a few steps sideways, slowly, ready to respond to any attack by the big Black Skaven. Then it bended its legs as it was about to run to him, but it turned abruptly, performed a huge jump to the giant chicken, and landed right on its saddle. Chitik knew what it was about to do, and he therefore had to act quickly. He rushed to the she-thing, and saw the trunk of the giant chicken rising again. He grabbed the pink and flexible member and pushed it upwards, directing by force the flared end to the rider. It was splashed by the stream of vomit of the beast. It screamed in pain and fell to the ground. The acid ate it away at an alarming rate, and its suffering lasted only a few seconds, during which it couldn't stop screaming and writhing.

The Black Skaven gave a long yelp, happy to be victorious. But the sorcerer didn't seem to be upset.

- Congratulations, I didn't expect less than that from a so formidable beast! Your primitive instinct has helped you, ratman. See if it will overwhelm you!

Chitik already knew what the wizard was referring to, and he couldn't repress a fearful shudder. His unique ear spun, hearing a charming chirping. He turned on his heels, turning back to his companions, to be faced with _her_.

She was there. The female with her wheedling face, her so harmonious body, so beautifully decorated with colourful paintings, her hypnotic process, her so pleasant to listen laughing. She opened her eyes, as if she was impressed by the big Black Skaven, her tail with a wasp sting wagged and her lips drawn a lickerish smile. Chitik saw, for a quarter second, her forked tongue passing on her chin. She intended to have fun with him.

- Don't let do, Chitik! cried Tôrkh.

- Kill it without hesitation! thundered Rool.

- Avenge Moly! Diassyon yelped.

- Crush-shash it!

- Tear off its head!

- And its tail!

The cries of the Skaven redoubled in intensity. To avoid falling into the trap, the best was to get it over with. He reached his paws forward, ready to catch the breeder and ran toward her.

Suddenly, when he was just a few feet away from her, he froze, stopped by something completely new.

The smell.

The female emitted a scent. It looked like the musk of the layers in Brissuc, but with an effect ten times, twenty times, a hundred times more intense than usual. He remembered some nights spent in the nursery, and pleasant sensations he felt as he sowed a breeder. However, even in the midst of these times, he had not experienced a quarter of what was now shaking his nervous system.

The great Black Skaven swallowed. The creature was now less than a yard from him. She giggled, nodded her rump, and presented him her pelvis, spreading her legs.

In the cell, the Skaven panicked and screeched desperately.

The scent of the female was more intoxicating. Chitik understood why Moly hesitated.

_Moly... He died with a smile. He no longer suffers. Do I really have to revenge him?_

Unlike Moly, he had already mated many times, and yet this wasn't any easier to resist temptation. Instead, he had never felt such an attraction, such enthusiasm. The desire was itching his abdomen almost painfully. Everything swirled around him, his eardrums were muffled as by cotton, only the breeder clearly appeared in his field of vision. Suddenly, behind him, a hysterical voice called. It was Diassyon.

- Chitik! Chitik!

Deep in his mind, his instinct whispered he should pay greater attention to that voice, even if it meant turning away for a moment from this source of pure happiness. He slowly turned his head. The slender fingers of the female brushed his cheek, slowly inviting the Black Skaven to look at her again, but he stood firm, and focused his eyes on the brown Skaven. He saw the Warlock Engineer throw something at him. The small package rolled onto the sand to his feet. It was something clear and fluffy. He felt his forehead wrinkling in perplexity. Curiosity led him to look, and to pick up this item. He looked more closely at his outlet, and saw it was a bunch of cream-colored hair still attached to a flap of skin as big as his hand. He sniffed, and recognised the smell of his brother.

_Moly!_

Indeed, he was holding a piece of skin of the unfortunate Pestilens, a piece Diassyon just took from his body. He tucked it into his nostrils, impregnating himself with Moly's musk, and the pheromones of Karkadourian's creature had no longer any effect on him. He was no more looking at an attractive female, but the disgusting creature that killed his beloved brother.

The breeder stroked slowly and gently his muscular chest. The Black Skaven felt his facies scowling with disgust. He put his left paw on the shoulder of the female, then wrapped the fingers of his right around her neck and squeezed. She no longer smiled, and began to struggle as he pulled with an abominable strength. She cried so acute and so powerful cry it hurt his eardrums, but he didn't relax his grip. He pulled his right hand back, and broke the neck of the beast, then twisted in the opposite direction, and pulled off her head with a roar of rage. He pushed the body with a swipe, and threw the head to the sand.

A hush fell over the arena. Chitik tore the piece of skin off his nose, clenched his fists and looked up to Karkadourian, to whom he sent a terrible bellow.

The sorcerer was speechless, literally petrified by what he had seen. He jumped up and pointed to the Black Skaven shouting something in the language of men-things. The doors opened, and the four weird-things equipped with giant beetles came at a run, under the direction of the big three-arm weird-thing-odd.

All Skaven uttered furious exclamations, they weren't surprised by such perjury. Chitik picked up the body of the layer, and used it as a shield to avoid being sprayed by one of the acid throws. He threw his pack to the Mutant, made a roll on the side to one of the horses, and seized the serrated sword. With a sharp movement of the arm, he sent it in the belly of a second weird-thing that was thrown back.

The two still standing acid spitters remained back, ready to throw their lethal squirt to the Stormvermin. The big jailer, however, who had never seen a prisoner survive the arena of its master, was furious, and rushed to the Black Skaven without thinking. Two of its three arms brandished a heavy mass. Chitik had every intention to disarm it and break it in pieces. Suddenly, he was seized with an indescribable feeling. At first he felt dizzy, then the whole world seemed to flip around him. His eyes filled with tears, he could hear nothing but a faint hum. Had he taken a bad blow without realising it, or rather... the wizard had cast a spell on him!

A sharp pain in his toes made him startle. He looked down and saw the skin of his foot smoking, burned by a few drops of acid. And suddenly, a terrible pain exploded in his back. He cried, and found himself on his knee.

- Chitik! squeaked Diassyon, seeing the big Mutant hitting his brother.

The Stormvermin wanted to close his eyes and give up, but the voice of the young Warlock Engineer reminded him he was not the only one he had to worry about. He then had an idea. He gathered his strength to get up. His senses were more or less income, and again he distinguished the jailer. It was about to knock him one more time. Chitik turned on himself and swung his ringed tail to the weird-weird. It put up in half the shock, but found itself destabilized. The ruse of the Black Skaven was successful. The jailer stumbled and reflexively with its free arm, he clung to something... one of the bars of the cage where the Skaven were locked.

Immediately, four pairs of arms grabbed the guard, compressed it against the bars, and cut it in pieces. Too surprised, it didn't have time to scream, and died in a few moments. Diassyon snatched from its belt the keys to the cell, he hastened to unlock the door. The Skaven jumped out of the cell with angry shouts. The acid eaters wanted to stop them in their impulse. Two sons of the Horned Rat found themselves on the sand, eroded to the skin by acid, but the dangerous creatures fell just as quickly.

Devastated, the wizard took an oil lamp and smashed it against one of the heavy decorative curtains that burned at once. He grabbed a bow hung on the wall, and shot an arrow into the fray before running away. A Clanrat collapsed, holding his stomach. He squealed in pain and terror at the sight of worms and centipedes gushing from the wound. Rool didn't take the time to think. He picked up the mass of the Mutant guard and broke the head of the poor Skaven.

Diassyon was the last to leave the cage. He hobbled on the bloody sand, searching feverishly the great Black Skaven. A scream died deep in his throat as he saw Chitik's bulky shape, spread on the ground, lifeless. He quickened his pace to the Stormvermin.

- Chitik… Chitik…

He pushed him with his fingertips, once, twice, but the other didn't react. The unfortunate Skryre again felt tears well up in his eyes. He lay near the Black Skaven.

- I... won't... abandon you. Never.

He lowered his eyelids, snuggled against his brother, and waited for the end.

Suddenly Chitik blenched with a grunt, and stood up. Diassyon, surprised in the highest degree, remained on his back, eyes like saucers, before popping a big relieved laugh. The Skaven Black laughed too, and helped him to get up.

- You need more than that to kill a Mighty one, bro! Let's fast-fast!

The Black Skaven spun toward the exit, but the brown Skaven grabbed his arm.

- Wait!

The Skryre stared inside the cage. Moly's corps was still in the corner.

- We can't leave him here!

- You want to take him? Why? Chitik asked.

Diassyon tried to answer, but no argument came to his mind. Indeed, the Skaven never cared about the fate of their missing people, and abandoned without hesitation the dead behind. The brown Skaven had knowledge that such commitment was not normal.

_He is my brother! But Chitik is right! What would say Vellux?_

He had an inspiration. Nobody would desecrate Moly's body by mutilating him more. He looked around and finally saw something that would serve him.

- Bring him here! I have an idea!

The Black Skaven rushed back into the cell. The Skryre grabbed one of the thick decorative hangings, which had fallen on the sand, and spread it on the ground. When Chitik returned, the corpse of the Pestilens flanked on his shoulder, Diassyon pointed the canvas.

- Put him in the middle!

The Stormvermin obeyed, and gently placed the Plague Monk on the curtain.

- Good. Now go get me some fire. Quick-quick!

The Black Skaven understood what the Skryre wanted to do. He nodded vigorously, and went picking a torch. Diassyon knelt beside the body of his brother and hugged him one last time against his heart. He whispered in his ear:

- I'm sure you agree. Be happy-joyful besides the Horned Rat, Moly!

Then he resigned himself to release his grip. He wrapped the body in the hanging. Chitik returned with his torch. Diassyon whispered in a trembling voice:

- Do it, I beg you. I can't.

Without a word, the Black Skaven put the torch on the package. The flames spread in a flash. The Stormvermin patted the brown Skaven.

- Come on, run away-let's go!

- Run away-let's go!

The both Skaven left the arena together, leaving behind the burning body of Moly of Clan Pestilens.

Rool was the first out in the open air. He breathed in deeply. It was daylight, but the sky was overcast and it was raining in torrents. Tôrkh looked around to assess the situation. The Skaven band was at the top of a hill. Below, there was the village where they had been captured. Karkadourian was therefore installed his hiding place into the hill, he had probably prepared his trap for some time. Or rather, this place was already installed there for long, like those Vellux's young apprentice had once discovered at Niklasweiler and Maraksberg. An entry has been provided in the top of the hill, with a small wooden porch to protect it.

The Moulder trainer then realised they had been lucky in their misfortune. In the tunnels, they faced several armed men-things, but nothing insurmountable. No trace of the legion of weird-things warriors that had defeated their battalion and captured the survivors. Maybe Karkadourian asked for help to a warlord who had left his side once the battle over? Karkadourian had estimated he could contain Skaven with what he had left, and that mistake just cost him dearly.

Tôrkh had enough to think about it. He counted fourteen Skaven, including himself.

- Well, let's go!

- No, wait! Rool said, raising his hand.

- What? Tôrkh asked, exasperated.

- Chitik and Diassyon are missing!

The Black Skaven turned to the opening, anxious. Fire clouds were growing thicker. Tôrkh growled:

- Come on, you birdbrain! Tired of waiting! We go-run!

- I don't want to abandon-betray them!

Tôrkh exhorted others Skaven to follow him and leave. He cringed when he saw the Vermin shock hadn't move.

- Rool, what are you doing? Come on!

- Wait! Look!

Tôrkh craned his neck forward, eyes narrowed. He eventually distinguished something stirring in the smoke. There were a few surprised murmurs, which were replaced by admiring exclamations. Chitik emerged from the grey curls, walking at a steady pace to the group. He was carrying on his shoulder Diassyon of Clan Skryre. The latter was unconscious, but when Rool approached, Chitik murmured:

- He's alive-alive.

Rool cried with joy. The two other Stormvermin applauded and soon, enthusiasm won the small group. The largest Black Skaven raised his hand. When silence had returned, he said simply:

- Go home.

There was no need to repeat it. No sooner had he taken a few steps in the direction of the burrow all the others were on his heels.

Sixteen Skaven were not as fearsome as a horde, but they knew to be more discreet. They had no difficulty in finding their path, from the moment they came down to the village where they were trapped. But there was no question of destroying everything in their path. Most of them were too weak to do anything else than walking forward, dragging their legs. The hardest part was finding food. As they had already destroyed everything on the way, there was nothing edible in their path. However, they had to avoid patrols of men-things soldiers, came to see the damage.

The day after their escape, Tôrkh, hungry as ever, ordered the four Stormvermin to hunt some wildfowl. Diassyon was still too sick to do anything but vaguely mutter. Chitik had quickly crafted a stretcher and Rool helped him to carry the young brown Skaven. The big Stormvermin was worried. Without the intelligence of his brother, the most able to take the right decisions, he felt a little lost. Since the disappearance of Moly, the poor Warlock Engineer was seriously shocked, and now Tôrkh sought to obscure the influence he had developed with others.

Mainly, Chitik was afraid to lose another brother, so he didn't leave the brown Skaven. Fortunately, Rool was a very talented hunter. He and the other two Stormvermin managed to bring a couple of wild boars. The tough and nerve meat was a blessing for the Skaven. Chitik insisted to leave the two hearts for his brother. The next day, Diassyon could walk again, and reassure other Skaven by big words. Tôrkh feared the wrath of Vellux before their failure.

- All our warriors killed-killed, sorcerer fled-away, Vellux will be furious!

- Degenerate Slaves and incapable Clanrats! And Karkadourian has no more breeder, retorted Rool.

- In addition, we know how to resist them now! Diassyon yelped. You plug your nose, and so, the smell has no effect on you! I'll invent a special "breathwell" to block breeder odours!

The Moulder muttered again, annoyed, but didn't speak again.

So they marched through the countryside and the forest for a few more days. They fell into a beast-things ambush. During the fight, one of the Stormvermin was mortally wounded. The survivors had no regrets to eat him after the battle.

Finally, by a moonless night, they came to the outskirts of Niklasweiler. They passed through the tunnel at the top of the hill, to find themselves in their burrows, well protected from the horrors of the outside world.

The arrival of a dozen naked and exhausted Skaven aroused strong emotions among Brissuc ratmen. Clan leaders have never been able to say to the Skaven of the colony who didn't join the army what happened to Furghân's troops since their departure. Vellux spoke about great victory, a bright near future... Then Clanrats had gradually forgotten the expedition, they probably would have done completely without Vellux's sermons during offices for the Horned Rat. This dismal procession did not correspond at all to the dreams of glory of the Grey Seer.

The latter arrived quickly, anxious to hear what happened from the mouth of one of the survivors. Seeing the lame group, he exploded with rage. He needed a guilty.

- I don't believe it! My best warriors, led by the Fangleader, with the finest weapons of Clan Skryre, rat-ogres manufactured with care, and the youngest and most durable Plague Monks, and the only ones to come back are _that_? ! What happened?

Diassyon, leaning on Chitik's flank, was anxiously waiting the right time to answer. Of course, Tôrkh said nothing this time. The first one to speak would be the first one to be hit. Vellux swept with a gaze the fifteen survivors, and squeaked:

- Where is Furghân?

- Death replied Chitik in a sharp tone.

The Grey Seer was about to administer a severe reprimand to the Black Skaven, but when his red eyes met the blue eyes of his interlocutor, he froze. There was, in this look, something profound, serious... and very intimidating. The Stormvermin used his advantage to say in one go:

- The weird-things tended us a trap. More many-numerous that Furghân believed. Furghân wanted to flee and abandon us. The weird-things caught him. All slaves, all Clanrats all Plague Monks massacred. Karkadourian the sorcerer has locked us. Tortured-killed Moly with a cursed female. I crushed her. The wizard ran. I led the survivors out of his den, then I lead them back to Brissuc.

He paused and waited for the reaction of the head of the colony. Like all the others, Diassyon was very anxious. Vellux pursed his lips in a small nondescript pout while slowly nodding.

- Right. You're gonna tell me everything you saw at Karkadourian's place. Meet me at my lab in one hour. The others, go back to your quarters.

All Skaven dispersed in silence. Diassyon patted friendly Chitik's arm with an admiring smile, and then retired to the Skryre workshop.

As he came to a crossroads, he stopped, smelling a very bad odour. His ears stood up when he heard a loud and steady breath. He turned his head and saw the Deacon Soum coming from the parallel tunnel and hobbling in his direction.

- Diassyon, my little Diassyon!

- Yes, Plague Deacon Soum?

Soum was only a few steps from the young brown Skaven. The smell seemed really unbearable.

- What do you want?

- To tell you how much I'm sorry-sorry. Moly was an excellent student. He would have made a great Plague Priest.

Diassyon said nothing. He wasn't even surprised. The old Skaven was the most manipulator of the whole terrier. He realised then that the unique yellowish eye of the Pestilens was gazing him intently from head to toe. An embarrassed shiver ran down his spinal cord.

- Hmm... you're still young, and you look... able. You have probably very good abilities, too. Maybe you could... replace-replace your poor brother at my side?

Diassyon understood immediately what the Deacon meant.

_Oh no, you old slag! I won't be your appetizer!_

Of course, he didn't speak so frankly, for his safety, and simply answered:

- I'm fine in Clan Skryre, Deacon. Not worthy of your trust-attention.

- I understand. But know that if one day you want to change your life, or if Master Engineer Mabrukk decides to chase you... you can join us. Clan Pestilens is very powerful-strong here, but it always needs fresh meat.

- I have to find Mabrukk.

- Of course-course.

Deacon Soum turned and went back into the dark passage. Diassyon watched the old Skaven away and a storm arose in his mind when he saw the face of his younger brother crying. He clenched his fists and teeth.

_Just you wait, you filthy bastard!_


	19. A new point of view

**Author's Note****: I have great pleasure to see that you are more numerous to read this story on any of the sites on which I published. But I beg you: do not hesitate to leave your suggestions or comments, even short. It's always a pleasure and it can be useful, especially when I feel that I take the risk to get a bit away of the general atmosphere of Warhammer.**

**Happy reading**** and glory to the Horned Rat!**

Although unaware of what his brothers endured, Psody continued to answer questions to the men of science, without any restraint. Two weeks later, Steiner allowed him to circulate through his property. Of course, some parts still remained inaccessible to the White Skaven, such as the apartments of the occupant or those of his daughter, and he was also prohibited from leaving the domain. Psody anyway had long realised he shouldn't disobey, for his own safety. At the same time, he had his own room. No more protection runes, nor padlock on the door, and Steiner invited to take his meals with him and his daughter henceforth.

Life took a completely different way in the eyes of the little ratman. All the inhabitants of the property who were in contact with him felt his mood improving. When they told him, he felt satisfaction and joy. He slept better, and the memory of his previous life under the thumb of his former tyrannical master remained clear, but became less painful. He continued to speak with Romulus about his visions and fears, and the prior helped him to accept his past instead of firmly reject it. Soon, even the image of the infamous Thanquol eventually dissipated.

Besides, he had no explanation on what he still saw with the "cold-things" yet. Felix Jaeger explained to him it was a people living in a continent far beyond the sea. Vellux had vaguely spoken about Lustria, where Skaven of Clan Pestilens had once sown diseases and had brought other ones on the old continent after being driven out by the reptilian natives. The poet promised him to bring the most information possible to his next visit.

As the merchant had expected, he hadn't so much more to teach him. He just completed the research of Imperial theorists, providing precision y here, refuting an inaccurate thesis there. Steiner didn't show any annoyance. He never forced his assistant to talk about anything, either. Psody had nothing left to hide, since his confession, and he spoke without embarrassment about Human slaves beaten to death under his command or his preference for this or that organ as a meal. Without losing his composure, the merchant took note, and explained in great detail how his kind perceived the Skaven, without retaining his language. Both collaborators spoke with candour, each knowing that the other wouldn't take a word literally.

Since he could walk more freely inside the enclosure of the domain, Psody spent his free time out of his room, mostly in the small park when the weather was sunny. It was there he could usually find Heike, when she wasn't in her apartments. She spent long hours to initiate him to one of her favourite activities: horticulture. To maintain plants only for the pleasure of watching them growing was a completely unknown concept for the little ratman, who just saw that the utility side – to grow fruits and vegetables and eat. It reminded him old Katel's gardening lessons.

By bad weather, Heike took him in the family library, and shared with him her other passion. She made him read books of fictional stories, legends, and poems, some composed by Jaeger himself. It didn't take much time before he enjoyed it. He even tried to write a few verses, but gave up quickly, more accustomed to speaking than writing. Once she even showed him the harpsichord of his father, and played in front of him some lines. The little ratman was greatly impressed by the strange device and the sounds it emitted, and he hardly dared to touch a key.

In a word, the ratgirl initiated her congener to aesthetics. She hardly understood this concept was totally alien to Skaven people. Psody remembered Diassyon, and his ideas; even when he dreamed of his amazing inventions, his brown elder thought only to their effectiveness.

He dared not tell her, but the young girl was precisely in the first place of what he considered beautiful. He was convinced, to see her for the first time had definitely changed something somewhere deep in his mind. He even surprised to have pleasure just looking at her working in the garden or on her desk. However, it worried him. Was it normal? Maybe. Humans seem dote stories where wild passions were to lose all common sense in favour of immense happiness. Was it reasonable? He was much less sure. He didn't even think to ask Heike, nor her father.

One day, the two Skaven had another significant conversation. Sat on a bench near the fountain, they enjoyed the sun. After some small talk, the girl-rate asked point blank:

- Do you believe in fate, Psody?

- Um... since I left Brissuc, I experienced a lot of things that make me think an all mapped out fate doesn't exist. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. My master often told me that my fate was to become a Grey Seer, and rule the surface world. That's not what happened.

- Or, your fate was justly to stand out and come here?

- I don't want to be the perpetual toy of the gods. I want to be free!

- I understand that, but I refuse to believe that everything that happens to us is due to chance. I was destined to breed again and again, and yet I landed here. I escaped the miserable Skaven girls' life. So I thought I was destined to be alone, without ever having a friend of my race. And then you came, and we met. The Empire is very large, but you fell right on the good people who brought you in Altdorf. It is still a strange coincidence! For me, the gods had an influence on it, somehow.

Psody nodded doubtfully.

- Oh... it doesn't just come from me. You're a great person, too, and great people are led by the force of circumstances to meet.

Heike didn't answer, but she approached the White Skaven, and soon she gently slipped her hand between his fingers. He looked at her strangely, quite surprised, she replied with a smile. Then she opened her eyes, and jumped up.

- Oh!

She ran down the aisle, and Psody swung swiftly in the direction the girl took. He saw a strange character Steiner was accompanying. It was a rather tall individual, and thin, with delicate and distinguished features, and large slightly pointed ears. He wore a red precious fabric dress, embroidery with lots of copper and gold. The most notable was the colour of his hair – he had never seen such. He knew some humans had orange hair, or "red," as they said, but the hair of this one looked like flames, and were alternating gold and copper reflections, as his cape. The little White Skaven soon realised he was dealing with an Elf. He also understood he had to be a very close individual, considering the way she hugged him without manners.

- It's good to see you! she exclaimed, laughing.

- It's good to see you too, my little mouse.

His voice was soft and melodious, and flew as a source of clean water. The young Skaven girl turned to her congener, with a radiant smile.

- I'd like to introduce you Master Brisingr Steadyhand. Master Brisingr, here is Psody.

- Nice to meet you, said the young ratman with a bow.

The so-called Brisingr came, looked at the White Skaven head to toe, and bowed, holding his arm on his side.

- The pleasure is all mine, young son of the Horned Rat. I think we have much to learn from each other.

- Daughter, why don't you help Magdalena to do her storage? We have to talk.

- Of course, Father.

- I'll see you later, little mouse, Brisingr proposed.

The young Skaven girl walked away, and returned to the mansion.

- Fascinating, whispered the Elf. I admit, I never thought one day I could approach a Skaven boy as closely without fear he guts me with his teeth!

- Skaven often do this, Psody replied, a little suspicious.

- Brisingr is a mage affiliated to the Bright College of Altdorf, Steiner explained.

Psody started.

- An imperial wizard? But sir Jaeger told me...

- I know, but you can rely on Brisingr. He has... so he has no interest in applying the rules of Imperial College in the letter if he wants to keep his license, considering what he did.

- Hey, I'm embedded in this Skaven studies story, too, and for longer than you clarified the Elf, with a sarcastic shrug.

The features of the young ratman relaxed a little.

- You're the second Skaven I am pleased to greet after Heike, of course!

- You know Heike well?

- To be honest, Brisingr brought her to me a few years ago. He was the first to establish a friendly relationship with her.

The elf sighed and looked at the young ratgirl who finished crossing the park.

- I'll remember all my life that day, when I approached her for the first time, poor little naked and dirty thing, trembling in the corner of the barn. She was very young, and seemed unable to walk on two legs or speak. To reassure her, I had to put me on all fours and eat raw meat before her, it prompted her to do so. But since then, she made a long way, thanks to the love Ludwig gave her, among other things.

That was the first time Psody saw an elf. He had heard of their good mood, their sense of humour and their preference for poetry and songs, but was a little taken aback by the tone of the speaker, as he talked about his friend. Steiner seemed to realise this, and tried to reassure him.

- Don't worry. Brisingr is a person to whom I have absolute confidence. He contributed greatly to the education of my daughter, and I referred him as her "godfather".

- A "godfather"? What is this?

The merchant cleared his throat.

- Well, if something would happen to me, and my daughter wasn't yet ready to become independent, it would be up to him to replace me.

- Oh... So you're really close?

Brisingr had a benevolent smile.

- Yes, but only as a loving parent. I never had any claim on her. From what I was told by Ludwig in his letter, the one who would fill the role of faithful friend would be you rather.

- I would like to... the White Skaven confessed. So you want to talk about something?

- Yes.

Steiner put his hand on the shoulder of the Elf, and explained:

- Brisingr came here to get a clearer idea of your magical abilities.

- How so? Psody asked, suddenly suspicious.

- I would like to do a few tests on you.

Psody jumped back with a fierce grimace. He yelled:

- Prior Romulus swore me no one would practice any experience on me!

- And he's right! replied the mage hastily. I don't want to poison you or torture you. I just would like to examine you to see your report with warpstone, with your permission.

- Warpstone? Psody repeated.

- Yes. You lived in a Skaven colony, and I know warpstone is at the heart of their civilization. I never had the opportunity to approach a Grey Seer so nearly, even less to question him. First, we must be sure that you don't represent a danger.

- A danger?

Steiner decided to let the two arcanists head to head. Once out of sight, Brisingr sat on the bench, and explained:

- Herr Steiner assured me you were a good company, and I believe him. But it is important to verify that there are no unhealthy... "vibration" from you.

- "Vibration"? Psody repeated.

- You know... or rather, tell me how you use magic?

The small White Skaven thought, and explained:

- The powers of the Grey Seers come from the Horned Rat. They are privileged, they show his signs, and can channel the energies of the Warp.

- "The Warp", so you know that word, too. Do you know which people learned this word first, between Skaven and Humans?

- No.

- Me neither, the elf laughed. Never mind. Elves have studied this question for hundreds of years before transfer this knowledge to humans. According to our archmages, magic is woven from an energy that comes from the land of Chaos, the Dhar. Pure Dhar is very dangerous as it is. The magic words your master has taught you can manipulate and shape Dhar, to do something else. According to the spoken syllables, the Dhar take a different form. Some words will turn it to flames, others to an invisible force able to lift heavy loads. Do you understand?

- Uh ... yeah, I guess, until now.

- Good. Our studies have determined that the warpstone emitted Dhar, like a candle where the light shines out.

- So... you think I might... produce bad energy?

- I really need to check this with your permission. To be sure it won't cause annoyance for Steiner or Heike.

The young ratman thought again for a moment and seemed convinced.

Thirty minutes later, Brisingr had almost finished. Psody was lying face down, naked on a wooden table. The bright mage passed over him his hands a few inches from his fur. Slowly, he made evolve his knuckles from the head of the White Skaven to the end of his tail, and then returned to his horns before descending along his spine. A light golden glitter came from his fingers. Behind them, Heike looked anxiously the scene alongside Romulus.

- There is no risk?

- Don't worry, my child. He feels absolutely nothing. Maybe slight warmth at times.

- Are you sure?

- I received this treatment once.

After a last passage Brisingr ceased.

- Right, I've finished. You can get dressed.

The young ratman stood up, and put his shirt. When he adjusted his waistcoat, he asked:

- So what?

- So, I'm surprised. I expected to find warpstone to the marrow of your bones and your brain changed to green marmalade, but I just could not see anything! Not the smallest particle of warpstone!

Psody felt relieved, but remained troubled.

- However, I've always lived in contact with warpstone! I spent four years in a Skaven place, eating rotten food, drinking contaminated water, and breathing air containing warpstone dust! I even swallowed a warpstone nugget!

- I have no doubt, but I guess nothing was definitive. It has been several months since you live in the open air. Your body eventually got rid of all that crowding warpstone. How many times did you eat warpstone?

- Once, in my rite of appointment as Grey Seer. I didn't to it again since.

- So much the better, it was not enough to make you addicted. Besides, I would like to know... are you forced to take warpstone to use your magic?

- Not at all! While I am not in a cell isolated by obstruction runes, I can feel clearly the winds of magic.

This gave to the small White Skaven the desire to demonstrate. He had not practiced since his arrest in Gottliebschloss, and perspective to flaunt his talents to another magician enchanted him. He asked eagerly:

- You want me to show you? Don't worry! Nothing dangerous! I would like, for example... Oh! Do you mind?

The White Skaven picked up a small pot, poured a handful of earth inside, and turned to Heike.

- You always have a seed bag in your pocket?

- Uh... yes.

- Would you please give me one?

Without a word, the girl took a rosebud from one of her purses. Psody planted in the soil, put the pot on the table, and raised his hands just above. His brow furrowed more and more, and a green energy radiated from his palms. Tiny lightning sprang from his fingers and struck the earth. Within seconds, the seed germinated and gave a flower. He lowered his hands, making stop lightning, and proudly handed the pot to Heike.

- Here, it's a gift.

The girl hid some concern in a tight smile as she saw the rose that had grown. It really had no natural. Its petals were green, with black edges, and emitted a very eerie green light. Its stem was the colour of coal, and its thorns were very large, hard and shiny as steel nails. Heike could not help feeling an unhealthy impression seeing this aberration. Psody realised this, and felt his ears lowering in disappointment.

- Oh... I'm confused.

- Do... don't worry, it's very nice.

The girl left the room in a bit hurry. Psody sighed, and placed the pot on the table.

- My magic is really rotten.

- A reason more for you to use it as little as possible, commented Brisingr.

- That doesn't make you a bad person so far, said the prior. She will understand. I shall reassure her.

Romulus left the room in turn, leaving the two arcanists alone. Brisingr resumed the conversation.

- I have read the notes of priestess Ammelie Meyer. According to her research, warpstone is a highly toxic material.

- Sir Steiner let me read this book. This lady is right. It made me very sick. Have you already tasted it, master Steadyhand?

- No, only Skaven and Chaos creatures can withstand the energy that comes out from it. If I did, I would be turned into a madcap mutant in less than a minute. I have witnessed this phenomenon. I would just have to sniff to see my brain destroyed.

- Yes, and its vapours cause hallucinations to Skaven.

- You had visions when you ate warpstone?

- Yes, but...

Suddenly Psody stopped short. He just remembered something he had concealed for some time, and had suddenly resurfaced unexpectedly. This was to be seen on his face, because Brisingr asked:

- But what?

- No. It was not the first time it happened to me, master Steadyhand. The first time was when I... um, when I mated for the first time. The emotional shock awakened in me the ability to have visions.

- Ah... Well, it sounds realistic.

- It took me by surprise, sir. But it especially did... oh... eh!

- What is it?

Psody had opened large surprised eyes. He snapped his fingers nervously several times.

- Grey Seer Vellux always told me that it was thanks to warpstone the Horned Rat could talk to me. But I... I had these visions _before-before_ my first shot. And... Oh! Ah! No! Vile swine!

- What, what? Brisingr asked, more excited and impatient.

- He lied to me! When I told Vellux I had visions after my night with the breeder, he began to change his attitude towards me. He became colder, more distant. I guess he was afraid, afraid to see me asking more questions about the actual need of warpstone, thus risking questioning the true extent of his powers, and his influence on me! He was jealous of his power over me! And maybe he feared I would end up rebelling, and so he decided to kill me! That's it! And this is what I saw in my nightmares! Each time, he humiliated me, he tortured and killed me, and when I asked him "why", he told me "because the Horned Rat has chosen you!"

- Are you sure? These are just dreams!

- When there is a direct relationship with a god, it goes further than that. Too precise, too regular and too developed to be simple dreams! I can see the difference, master Brisingr. That explains it, I'm sure! He said warpstone was the key to the truth, I rather think it was the key to the cage he wanted to draw around me! He _wanted_ that I couldn't live without it! If I had become addicted to warpstone I would have been completely under his grip, because he was the only one who could provide me. He didn't want me to think by myself and have my own opinion on the word of the Horned Rat! I was going to become too dangerous to his authority!

One thought led to another, the young ratman exclaimed:

- Perhaps he can't have visions without warpstone! Yes!

- Are you really sure? Like that, without proof?

- I'm sure! The winds of magic floating around him have told me! We, White Skaven can interpret their subtle hisses also clear as a spoken language. I remember now! What he felt in my presence, it was fear, jealousy… and envy! He envied me!

- If it's the case, then... you are potentially more powerful than he is.

- That's why he thinks the Horned Rat didn't choose him! I'm sure!

Psody fell to his knees and raised his arms to the sky. Brisingr saw tears beading at the corners of his pink eyes.

- Master Steadyhand... you just saved my life. I finally have the answers-answers to my questions, thanks to you.

- I did absolutely nothing, my young friend, the Elf answered with a small smile. It is you who have found these answers alone.

The White Skaven remained thunderstruck. Brisingr continued:

- Yes. I just helped you adjust the pieces of the puzzle. You already have all the clues, and you have done the main of its construction.

The little ratman remained silent, heartfelt tears in his eyes, nose turned toward the ceiling.

In the evening, Steiner retained Brisingr Steadyhand for supper. Psody enthusiastically told all their work of reflection. The merchant and his daughter were very happy, and Steiner insisted on giving the magician a purse full of gold crowns. The mage saluted friendly the little ratman, hugged Heike a last time, and took his leave.

The next day, the weather was superb, and the little ratman woke up in an excellent mood. Like every morning since his arrival, he worked with Steiner. After an hour of work, the merchant asked:

- Can't you say anything more on that?

- No, my lord.

- In this case, we really reached the end of our study, this time.

The young White Skaven couldn't help but feel a twinge in his heart.

- Oh... I hope you're satisfied?

- I hope you're joking? asked the Human laughing. Since I began my study on the Skaven, I couldn't imagine getting a quarter of what I learned with you in my wildest dreams. I am very happy with our collaboration. Really. You were perfect.

- Thank you, sir.

Steiner coughed.

- Actually, I have one last topic to discuss; I preferred to keep to the end.

- Well, I'm listening, my lord.

Steiner sat facing Skaven White, and looked grave.

- I'd like you to talk about your females.

Psody wrinkled his muzzle in anxiety.

- Oh... this is difficult. You'd asked me a year ago, I would have said, but since I live in the Human society... I learned that your relationships with women were not the same at all.

- I know that. But it is important for my study.

The White Skaven peeped by the window. He saw the slender silhouette of Heike, who was sniffing the scent of flowers, as she used to.

- I'm afraid to shock you, regarding your daughter.

- Don't worry about her. I know she suffered, she told me about her first memories. But she escaped the worst, and I'm ready to hear the rest. Bluntly, without restraint. And I promise you I will not bring any judgment on you whatever you did in the past.

So Psody took a deep breath and explained everything to Steiner. The appalling conditions in which Skaven females were held. The abuse and poisoning with warpstone incense. The rewards to males in the form of wild mating never granted by the breeder. The pseudo-medical devices intended to help give life, more akin to torture instruments. Skaven infants separated from their mother too soon. Too old or sterile females ruthlessly eliminated. He even remembered the two small Skaven babies of Maraksberg who finished pieces under Vellux's scalpel, and had to interrupt his story, to dry the tears that had flowed down his cheeks. In the end, Steiner had trouble finding what to say.

- Well ... now I can fully understand my poor Heike.

- I'm… sorry, my lord.

- You don't have to apologise.

- Of course I have. I participated to… everything. I have ten children and I ignore up to their name. I've never done anything for them, I do not even know how they look like! No worthy parent does that. I didn't care then, now I'm ashamed.

- It was part of your education. You have changed, my young friend. And besides, you haven't waited to be here for that. These three little mice, you wanted to give them a chance, didn't you? You hoped the two elders could live even without giving birth. This is a nice proof of compassion.

- I don't understand how Heike can be as nice to me, after all what Skaven males do to females!

- She knows how to make sense of things, my young friend. Like you, compared to me. Your predecessors are all dead in the cell, sometimes in unenviable suffering, and yet you're not angry against me because you know you're no more representative of Skaven society males. You have been, but your contacts with Humans made you someone else closer to us. You have become a very endearing young boy, you know. In fact, that's why she spends more time with you.

Psody felt blood warming his cheeks.

- Uh... you... do you mind?

- Not at all! And I see that you like it, you too. This is normal, she's the same kind as you are, you have good contact, you share interests, and I guess you just like to be with her as she enjoys your company. This is how two young people become closer, among Humans. There is nothing unhealthy. She confirmed she also begins to _really_ appreciate you.

- She... she didn't say anything.

- That is normal too. For Humans, the girls sometimes have trouble admitting they have tender feelings for someone. And in general, when... something like that develops between a boy and a girl... the boy has to do the first step. I don't think she denies her feelings, she fell under your charm since the first time she saw you. Now she's waiting for a sign from you.

- I... it shall... it will come. This is true, sir Steiner, I'd like to be... someone important to her. She's important for me. Not only because she's of my own. She was something more. I don't know what, but... something no one else could ever have. She's unique-unique. I'm sure even if she was with other Skaven girls raised as she has been, none would be like her.

The Imperial had a benevolent smile.

- All Humans fathers who love their children always find them all qualities. But even without this relationship, I assure you: Heike is exceptional. There are not many Humans who have a personality like his. Sigmar gave me a wonderful gift to me bringing.

- "The most beautiful treasure your god has to offer you..." murmured thoughtfully Psody. Yes, Lady Katel told me.

- She's a helpful, kind and gentle nature, but in recent weeks, I've discovered a personality trait that I didn't know. I've never seen her so happy.

- Really?

- When she talks about flowers to you, when she presents you texts of poetry or tales... all those little moments with your company really make her very happy. You know, apart Magdalena, she has no friends.

- And Romulus?

- Romulus is just her tutor.

- Her what?

- A tutor is... let's say it's her teacher with a friendly relationship from teacher to student. Nothing more. And my servants know and respect her, but they fail to pass the species barrier. With you, this barrier doesn't exist. You are his first real friend, Psody. Maybe this friendship shall evolve… into something else?

Steiner stood up, took a few steps into the office. He felt the discomfort of the little ratman and changed the subject.

- During these past weeks of work, you showed a lot of courage. You've become very sympathetic to me, and I'm very embarrassed not to be able to help you as much as you did.

- I've received a lot, sir.

- I would still like to talk about a particular day.

- I hear you.

- This is the ninth day of the second month of the year two thousand five hundred and twenty of the Imperial Calendar, the month of Jahrdrung. That day, the weather was beautiful. I was in Talabheim during this period – I lived there for a while. Business was rather stagnant, and I was preparing for my return to Altdorf. I was alone at that moment. My wife had already passed away for a long time, my son too, I had not met Heike yet, although my studies about Skaven had begun, and the only thing that was important was my business. Romulus was already a long-time friend, too.

- Right, but what relation with the Skaven?

Steiner smirked a bit mysterious.

- In fact, it concerns you closely. That day, my young friend, is a particularly important day for you. This is the day you were born.

Psody's eyes widened in surprise.

- Are you sure?

- Absolutely certain.

- How? Skaven care only about present and future, without keeping a trace of their past. They have no calendar!

- You're right, but looking at you, I remembered a small detail you told me about Grey Seers. During one of our conversations, I surreptitiously copied your tattoo printed on your ear, and yesterday, at my request, master Seadyhand managed to calculate the night corresponding precisely to the position of the stars of the sketch while remembering that you said to be aged a little more than four years. It is no more a "nearly". Today, I can say that you are born the ninth day of Jahrdrung, in the year two thousand five hundred and twenty. You know your birth date according to our calendar. After your name, this is the most essential component of your imperial identity. I give it to you as a gift.

- I... thank you, sir.

- One day, perhaps, you want to take an imperial name, too? Only if you wish. Never reject your true identity. And if you're disturbed by your past, do not deny it. Assume it, and you'll be in peace with yourself.

The White Skaven didn't know what else to say. Steiner took out his pipe, filled it, and lit it. Psody had seen some Pestilens do the same, and he never tried, afraid to have a malaise similar to warpstone dizziness.

- Good, said Steiner sitting. It is time for me to fulfil my share of our deal. We'll do everything to help you to understand your visions. I'm shall summon prior Romulus.

Someone knocked at the door, Steiner invited to enter. It was Jaeger.

- Hello, my friend! the merchant saluted. You come at the right time!

- Mein Herr, Psody, I found something.

He was carrying a huge book under his arm.

- Here, the _Treaty of travels in Lustria by Marco Colombo_, the most complete edition.

Jaeger put the thick volume on the desktop. He addressed the White Skaven.

- I kept a few contacts at the university. I hope you'll find what you're looking for, because I had to move heaven and earth to borrow it.

- What? How could you move the sky?

The adventurer ran a hand across his forehead.

- This is an imperial expression. Basically, I mean it took a lot of insistence to convince the curator to let me take this book. I had to sign a paper promising to return it within a week. Normally, precious books never leave the library to prevent them from being lost.

- Ah, I see. So, I must have finished reading it before next week?

- If you don't want me to be imposed a fine, I'd prefer.

Psody carefully opened the book and leafed through.

- Don't worry, I read more complicated-obscure texts. It shouldn't be too difficult to study.

The merchant got up and invited with a wave of his hand the little man-rat to sit on his seat.

Three hours later, the little White Skaven wanted to have a break. Romulus offered him a cup of tea with lemon. Heike, inquiring, took the opportunity to flip through the thick volume in turn. His father rubbed his moustache.

- Did you find any clues, Psody?

- The first part explains mostly the travel itself. This explorer-traveler had to brave many dangers. First on the sea, and then in the land of cold-things. I've just learned Humans say "Lizardmen", by the way.

- He made several trips across the continent. But I suggest you quicken a bit. We need to find something that relates more directly to the Skaven, so you know where to go explore.

- I'm sure Psody will... what? exclaimed the ratgirl, raising her head.

Romulus and Psody turned simultaneously to the merchant.

- What did you just say, Ludwig?

- You heard well, Romulus. I keep my promises, and I really want to know the truth, too. So, if we have to get it up to Lustria, I'll plan an expedition in my turn, and I count on you to join in! Psody, you may have a revelation. If you go there, if you find exactly the places you saw in your vision, everything will become clear!

The young White Skaven remained nonplussed. This perspective seemed both crazy, terrifying... and particularly exciting.

- You would do that for me?

- Not just for you, my young friend. If I can find something that connects Skaven to the Lustria natives different than war, I could brag to have gone further than Colombo and Leiber together! This is a perspective that I find really enchanting. But you have to know where to search. Lustria is a very large and dangerous country. I can finance an expedition, but it would be better to know where to go, exactly.

- Are you really serious, Ludwig? It's expensive, you'll have to charter a ship, hire a crew, buy the equipment...

- Don't worry about it, Romulus. I have enough money. If I can contribute to enlarge the knowledge of humanity, then there is no hesitation to have! Even if it's a failure, at least I'll have no regrets. But you still have to know where to go.

Heike murmured:

- You... are you saying that... Psody, you won't really leave, will you?

The little ratman swallowed.

- I don't know... it's sudden.

- We'll think, my child, Romulus tempered. We'll think.

The ratgirl plunged back into the book. She turned a few pages at random, and stood on one of them. As she seemed fascinated by its content, the merchant asked:

- What are you looking at, dear?

- Is this a Lizardman?

Both Humans and the White Skaven crowded around the book. They saw an image drawn with great detail which represented on the whole page an impressive creature. It was a humanoid being, a kind of monstrous toad with a huge belly, legs too skinny to support it, trapped under its fat. Its both hands planted at the end of its skeletal arms held small feathered sceptres. But what most interested the White Skaven was its face. Or rather, the impressive circular mask that completely covered its facies. According to the description of the author on the left page, this mask was made with solid gold. It covered not only the face, but was adorned with a second piece which gave the impression that the wearer had a large crest. The legend of drawing said "Venerable Lord Kroak."

- I recognise him! This Lord Kroak appeared in my dreams. And now I remember other details: the mask reliefs, sculptures flames-shaped around his eyes, this three-headed snake totem behind him.

- Continue, there may be something else, encouraged the priest.

- Heike, will you please turn the pages? We will focus on the drawings.

Without a word, the girl obeyed the merchant. The prints passed one by one, and Psody raised his hand.

- Wait!

On the page spread the reproduction of a fresco entitled "The Mystery of Tixoco." It represented a large building, a several floors tower of the same architecture as the one he had seen in many of his visions. On each side of this construction, a procession of characters walked in single file, and the first one of each column greeted a tall figure wearing a cape and a mask standing at the top of the pyramid. This character in particular was really highlighted: his arms outstretched to the sky, he seemed to draw his energy from the grinning face sun carved above him.

The author's commentary said:

"I didn't have time to copy the entire drawing, because my presence was tolerated only if I leaved the temple at sunset. In addition, I don't know why, but the present Lizard-men forbidden me to speak of this place to other tribes. I gave my word of honour on the altar stone of the temple never to reveal the exact location of this mausoleum if I met other representatives of this people. Should they hide themselves from their own kind? They didn't want to go into details, and I didn't insist. The less I know, the better for everyone.

"I had the intuition that this fresco was hiding something really special. An exceptional, incredible secret, something that could overturn an established order. Indeed, among these reliefs, I didn't recognize the symbols that are usually found on the sculptures of the people of Lustria."

When he saw the drawing, the little ratman understood the explorer hadn't a wrong intuition. Marco Colombo had failed to fully decipher the relief because he didn't have all the data. He hadn't the thought of a city where live ratmen. But for the young White Skaven, the silhouettes on the right were nothing but Skaven. Round ears, incisors, tails not consist of a single line, but a series of small segments, such as the rings of a rat tail... so many little signs that differed them from the Lizardmen engraved left.

Finally, he looked more closely at the character at the middle of the engraving, and was finally convinced.

- Look!

He put his finger on the centre of the image, on the cloaked the character. The others looked more carefully. He wore a gold mask crafted, less complex than Kroak's, but still well decorated. Relieves showcased his eyes, the folds of his forehead and his incisors, and two horns protruding from the temples of the masked figure were visible on the sides of the mask. Excited, he exclaimed:

- I've seen this before, too!

- Where? the merchant asked impatiently.

- Between the hands of the White Skaven with smooth horns that seemed to live among cold-things. It was a gift from a friend, to thank him for defending a city, but a cold-thing head confiscated it. He was furious.

- I understand, Steiner muttered. Nobody likes to be a victim of ingratitude.

- And here, around his neck!

The figure wore a necklace with a small square pad on his chest. On this tablet, they saw three lines that intersected to form a triangle whose edges were slightly above each corner.

- This is the symbol of the Horned Rat! exclaimed Psody.

- On a Lizardmen picture? wondered Heike.

- I don't understand anything! Skaven are the worst enemies of cold-things, so why have honoured one of them to the point of making an etching for him, and putting a pendant with the sign of the Horned Rat on?

- It may not be so simple, Psody. Didn't you notice? The triangle is upside down. Its tip is facing the sky. But your people have the habit of drawing with the tip in the other direction.

Psody's eyes widened.

- Indeed... you're right!

- Perhaps it indicates that its meaning is reversed? the prior observated. In any case, Colombo didn't make any remark on it. He didn't recognise, or he didn't know the triangle of the Horned Rat? However, I think more and more that this temple has a direct link with what Psody told us.

- So this is where we will begin our research, decided Steiner. Colombo drew a map at the beginning of this book. He surely indicated this temple.

- But... we may have the same trouble he had with cold-things!

- It was a long time ago. Maybe there is no more people, and you can examine the entire fresco as long as you want. Anyway, there is no other way to know that is there.

The two Humans and the two ratmen looked at each other with gravity. Romulus finally said:

- One thing is sure, Ludwig: this White Skaven seems to be the key to the riddle. What do you think about it, Psody?

- For me, it's obvious. The Horned Rat wants me to find this White Skaven.


	20. The Crew

The _Warrior's Rest_ was one of the many taverns of the inner city of Altdorf. The crowd was diverse: Humans, Dwarves, Halflings, even some Ogres stood still willing to freshen up and spend a night in a warm bed. This hostel wasn't the poorest or the most poorly attended. But all the regulars knew it was the starting point of many shady businesses. You could easily find thugs for hire, unscrupulous mercenaries to perform dirty jobs, and people who were not fussy about the nature of their employer.

So was the case of young Günter Zimmermann. He wasn't in the business for very long, but had travelled across the Old World from north to south, from east to west, had approached Praag, the city gates of Kislev, had spent some time to Sartosa. In a word, he was a seasoned mercenary. So when he heard a "very special job, well paid, surely dangerous, and not a word to anyone about anything", he felt his adventurous fibre vibrate as ever. He came in, sat at the counter and asked for a beer.

When the tenant served him the well fresh and frothy drink, the Human asked quietly:

- Where can I find Ludviksson?

Without a word, the big man pointed with his chin a little strange character sat in a corner of the room, a Halfling currently viewing a leather-bound book. Günter approached, and sat before him.

- I'm looking for Ludviksson. It's not you?

The Halfling looked up and flashed a wry smile under his wide-brimmed hat.

- Very observer for a Human.

- Well, where can I find him?

- Two things, my little man: first, you must call him "Captain Ludviksson". He has not knocked down to the Land of Desolation for the first kid came forget his title. And secondly, from the moment you meet him, you'll have to close your big damper on what you see and hear. The guy who pays us doesn't want us to talk about his work, and if someone does, that someone will have more trouble than he. Is that understood?

Günter felt a little taken aback at this little man more assured than him, but he wanted to look good.

- Okay... Can I at least know where we go?

- Far. Far away. For a moment. What is your name?

- Zimmermann. Günter Zimmerman. And you?

Without answering, the Halfling registered the name in his notebook, and explained:

- If you want to work for Captain Ludviksson, discretion is the watchword after effectiveness. You say anything about what you see unusual, and we'll take care of you to stay permanently still.

- Well! You're not joking!

- That's why the customer pays so much. You know how much he pays? Of course you know. And you seem to be smart enough to know when to stay silent. So you're in, or you go away, now.

The Human nodded thoughtfully. The curiosity was even stronger than the prospect of a good salary.

- I'm in.

The sun was setting over the Reikland countryside, flooding the agricultural fields with its golden beneficial rays. Günter spotted the little path that wound between the hills to the east. He left the paved road leading to Nuln and walked thirty more minutes. Finally, he saw what the Halfling had described him.

It was obviously an old farmhouse, which seemed abandoned. Pastures were deserted, feeders and troughs empty, and weeds invaded the court. Only a flame visible through one of the windows indicated a presence. The young mercenary knocked on the door and someone opened it. It was the Halfling of the _Warrior's Rest_.

- You're on time, that's fine. Come in.

Günter followed him without a word. They went down stairs, and arrived to a huge low room, where thirty people were already waiting. The Human made a little pout. He didn't know any of these men to rent, but could recognize true professionals, and none of them seemed to be an amateur. The Halfling picked up his notebook, ticked the name of Günter, and went on the stage erected at the bottom of the cellar.

- Okay, guys, all volunteers are present. Thank you for responding to our offer. I'll introduce you now captain Ludviksson.

For a moment, the young man thought he was going to be a little twist, such as seeing the Halfling appearing as Ludviksson. But one of the mercenaries installed in the second row stood up and took his place on the stage in turn.

- Yes, it's me. I can get an idea of volunteers by mingling with them.

Günter felt a little relieved when he saw the famous mercenary captain roughly corresponded to the description he had heard. Hallbjörn Ludviksson was from Norsca. Norsca was a distant country, north of the Empire. Life was harsh, the weather cold and snowy most of the time. Norsii were austere people, accustomed to a hard life, constantly threatened by incursions of Chaos. Indeed, the country was the first barrier between the Empire and the Chaos Wasteland where regularly came demons, warriors and other marauders from.

Hallbjörn Ludviksson had the reputation of being a Norse used to fight against Chaos. It was rumoured he was special agent serving Ulric priests in their perpetual struggle against the forbidden gods minions, before founding his own mercenary unit. His men were mostly his countrymen, and all had both a preference to fight against the demons, and good reasons to cross the imperial authorities as less as possible. Of course, he never welcomed in his unit someone deliberately heretical, nor Mutant.

The man himself seemed about to enter his third decade. He was rather large, and if he wasn't particularly muscular, seemed well built. A blonde beard framed his cheeks, his wheat-coloured hair was cut in the manner of soldiers of the Empire. He wore relatively common clothes, but had kept on his back a huge crafted warhammer, with a varnished wood handle reinforced with metal handles, and a heavy head with Norse ornaments carved on its both side faces.

- Mister Nedland Grangecoq here has explained to you the most.

The Halfling had an extreme reverence in laughter and applause. The Norse continued:

- Our employer decided to set an expedition to Lustria. Did some of you already go there?

There were a few "uh... no." Ludviksson continued:

- Forget it, except Nedland, nobody went here, not even me. We are hired to go into a Lizardmen temple. They are the natives. These people are not friendly at all, and they hate intruders. The temple where we go will probably be abandoned, but it's possible some people remain there. Our employer is however generous: he agrees to pay us, counting on us to do some cleaning, but if they are too many for us, we leave.

The Norse waved his hand. An individual at the bottom of the room stood up. He wore common clothes, but his face emitted certain magnetism. His blue, very deep eyes were remarkable. He crossed the cave and stood beside the Norse.

- I'm Romulus. I preferred to travel discreetly. Know that I am a priest of Shallya. Some time ago, I met someone who has to do some research to solve mysteries, I presented to your employer that I know well, and he has decided to help him. I will be part of the expedition, as a man of religion and surgeon. I repeat what master Ludviksson just told you: no way to risk any life. And even if this expedition is a failure, you will be compensated.

The mercenaries nodded. Romulus unrolled a map and nailed it on the wall. The Old World was drawn on it, with another continent to the west, beyond the sea. Ludviksson put his finger on the western country.

- This is Lustria. A country consisted with huge tree jungle, exotic plants, nasty animals, sweltering heat, torrential rain and sun.

- Nice place! someone joked.

- Hey, I heard that there were cities full of treasures! That's what the boss wants?

- No. We'll go for _scientific_ purposes.

The captain raised his finger and pronounced the word with so much irony in his voice that many men laughed.

- Our job is to accompany Romulus and his assistants for them to do a job on the spot. They want to study the ruins. I don't know why, I don't know how and I don't care. We just have to support them and protect them if there are problems.

- Is that it? Günter asked.

- It's enough, Lustria is a dangerous country. So, still interested?

An approver hubbub answered the question. Ludviksson even raised his hands for silence.

- And here's the most important. I tell you right now: those who don't leave within a minute are considered "in" and can't go back. Is it understood?

No replies. Romulus then knocked on the door of a little shed. It opened.

- Here is the main scientist of the expedition.

Slowly, very slowly, a small figure appeared in the eyes of the whole assembly, and went on stage. There were many astonished murmurs, hardly contained exclamations, and even a nervous sneeze.

Psody was very intimidated. He appeared before a whole group of Humans, more familiar with battlefields he was, and so not easily impressionable. He chose to come to them with teenage Human clothes, and had made his toilet with a special attention.

- Uh… Hello, he mouthed.

A great weighing silence flew over the assistance. All eyes were on the little ratman, who felt like he was shrinking.

One of the men among the oldest rose and pointed to the White Skaven.

- What is _this_?

- This is the little guy we'll have to protect, Votiak.

- A rat? A bloody rat?

Other similar protests were heard. Psody felt his blood flushing his cheeks up to the base of his horns. He felt the general contempt hitting him more painfully than a volley of stones. His instincts told him to turn to dust some of the Humans to calm down them, but his reason firmly restrained him. The Norse raised his hand.

- Relax. I took the time to get to know this kid. Yes, he's a kid, he's not older than most of you when you started to earn money that way. I know that, usually, giant rats are massacred by us before they devour us. But it is little different. The boss has confidence in him, as Romulus, and me too. I won't say the name of our employer, but I can tell you that I regularly work for him for several years, and as he told me that this white rat is like us, I believe him.

- I've spent several weeks talking with him, to help familiarise them with us. I give you my word of honour, on Shallya's tears of compassion this young boy is loyal and won't never betray us.

Ludviksson was deemed not to tell lies, and the priest managed to use persuasive words and an appropriate tone, as the mercenaries calmed down a bit. The captain turned to the little ratman.

- Come on, don't be shy! Introduce yourself and tell us what you expect from us.

Psody cleared his throat, and muttered:

- Uh... dear Human friends... I... My name is Psody. I... as you can see... my kind... well, my life...

Once again, a heavy silence hung heavy on any assistance. The small White Skaven closed his eyes, concentrated with all his strength, and finally uttered:

- I wish say thank you to all of you. I... I know that you have good reason to hate me. But these last three months, I learned that Humans were not such as my own master described me. Some have... full of beautiful things in them. And I will do everything... to have the same behaviour than yours. I don't expect... your sympathy. But at least, a good professional relationship?

He was relieved to see the hardest features slowly but surely fade. As he was still looking for his words, one of Humans asked:

- Can I know what we'll seek in Lustria, exactly? I mean, what do _you_'ll seek?

- I...

The young White Skaven glanced to Romulus who gave him a small nod. He answered:

- I'm looking for a secret about my people, who would be in a temple. This is something that could possibly change... the relationship between your people and mine.

Some puzzled whispers fluttered again. Günter asked:

- A change? You're not cooking us a bad plan?

- No! I… I swear I don't!

- Yeah, and what if your "secret" was something that could set fire to the Empire? another one understood.

- Don't worry, Wor, Ludviksson intervened. They explained me in detail, and it doesn't stink. This is really a _scientific_ purpose. The only risk is to increase our knowledge.

- Hey, for Wor's small brains, it is a real danger! sneered someone else.

There was still mocking laughter. Votiak said aloud what everyone thought:

- Have you thought about the risks, Captain?

- Are you afraid of a few mosquitoes? asked Nedland.

- It's not what I was thinking about, it's about the Sigmarites. If it is known, we all end up on the scaffold for heresy!

- Another reason to shut up, Votiak. But you all already knew it, didn't you? And we are all bound by confidentiality. We all have an interest not to reveal the identity of our protégé. Note it won't change much compared to usual.

- And if it can help you, remember the amount on the bill we'll send to our employer when we return. The only special requirement is to show a little tolerance. And if it's him who frightens you, Votiak, I made a deal: our friend Psody knows that if he tries any trick, he won't live another minute. This was the condition that I accept this job, and I mingle my guys.

The pressure gradually fell after a few small cabals. Even Votiak eventually was convinced. Indeed, he had already done some dirty jobs during his long career. In his situation, working with a tamed man-beast wouldn't make a big difference in the eyes of the authorities. Captain Ludviksson continued:

- Well, you now know what you need to know, and there is no time to retreat. Our employer has chartered a ship in Sartosa. We'll meet us there the day Nedland let you know tomorrow morning. It will give you time to check your equipment. Remember where we go, it's a hot and humid jungle. On that note, thank you to all. Our ship is the _Determinazione_. I leave tonight with the first group, the second will be lead by Nedland. Votiak, I count on you to command the third one. We'll trip separately, so we won't be too noticeable. The white rat goes alone with Romulus. We won't have to endure him before the boat. Any questions?

- Who will control the ship?

- Captain Giulio da Firenze. He knows about for Psody and our employer has quietly put under surveillance, we're pretty sure he doesn't denounce us to the witch hunters. There will be a priest of Manann, but for the rest, it will be for us to manoeuvre the ship. Fewer people involved, less risk. That's why we asked people who've sailed. Anything else?

Since nobody said nothing, the mercenary captain dismissed the assistance.

The next day, back at Steiner's Home, Psody became acquainted with two other members of the expedition who would have some importance. Romulus introduced the merchant and his daughter the newcomers. There was a young man, who appeared at the dawn of his twentieth spring, and a tall woman, probably the same age as the prior. Romulus gestured to the young Human.

- Here's brother Tomas. He's part of a special branch of the order of Verena, the goddess of justice and knowledge. The order which Ludwig follows the principles, he added to the attention of the small White Skaven.

Tomas was a little thin young man with fair skin, small dark eyes, and a short beard on his chin. He had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and wore simple clothes that made him look like an ordinary seminarian. Psody noticed his leather satchel had a buckle adorned with an engraving of the round head of a bird with huge round eyes.

- Brother Tomas is a member of the Order of the Keepers of Truth, explained Romulus. This order calls for the knowledge of all, and its protection. The highest authorities of the Empire don't hesitate to incinerate everything that is heretical, but also anything that could sway their authority if people agreed to think by themselves.

- This is in the name of that will we already have collaborated, and Romulus is himself part of our order! The brother Tomas explained cheerfully.

The little White Skaven addressed to the prior a surprised look.

- You don't serve Shallya?

- Of course I do, but it doesn't preclude. You know, I'm someone who accepts questionings, as long as they allow me to learn more. I'm a prior of Shallya, but I also sworn to make advance the Empire by keeping all the secrets, and trying to gradually integrate those which could make evolve positively the people.

- We're talking about only little secrets, what is very difficult. To accept that Skaven can be our friends would be too premature, said Tomas. Anyway, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Tomas reached out to Psody, who shook his hand friendly. Finally, the woman stepped forward. She wore a white dress, topped with a blue hooded cape with red trim. Her chest was covered with a silvery metal breastplate on which was carved an eagle with outstretched wings. She had a brand new spear, with a shining steel tip. Psody didn't well distinguish her face, partially hidden by the fabric, but he guessed coppery curls framing her forehead and cheeks. However, he immediately spotted the glow of her green eyes.

As she felt that they were waiting for her, the young woman explained:

- Mein Herr, prior, I'm Sister Abigail, priestess of Myrmidia. Goddess of War and Honor, she clarified to the attention of the little ratman. I had the opportunity to work a couple of times with Romulus.

- The circumstances were so extreme she definitively won my trust, Romulus said.

- In brief, I am a Templar of Myrmidia, and therefore, I have to travel to complete my weapon master and my knowledge of justice. I've never been up to Lustria, but it is a good opportunity.

Her voice was deep and assured. She wasn't a shy or fearful commoner, yet she managed to reveal and assume her femininity. Heike couldn't help but feel admiration for this woman who seemed so strong... and a slight feeling of misgiving.

- Sister... don't you apprehend being uncomfortable in an expedition with men only?

- Don't worry about me, my little lady, the priestess replied with a slightly disturbing smile. No man has ever laid a hand on me unless I gave him the order to. All those who have tried have quickly regretted it.

- I understand, but I'm thinking like my daughter does. I have nothing against you, but would you please tell me what could you bring to the expedition I pay? The merchant asked. There are already plenty of warriors.

- A little diplomacy, a female presence that might be reassuring, and the attention of Myrmidia, answered sister Abigail without hesitation.

Steiner nodded.

- Right. I trust the judgment of Romulus.

They spent the whole day preparing their luggage. Psody himself had not much to take. The prior gave him a few preparations, herbs, roots, and other ingredients, in a small strap satchel. He put in his bag Katel's embroidered dress and a nightgown. Then he helped Romulus to gather in a chest calligraphy instruments, measuring devices, a telescope, and several notebooks.

Then came the most difficult time the next morning.

The bell of the nearest Sigmar temple rang eight times. Romulus and Tomas had prepared a cart with a tarp stretched over all their possessions. Sister Abigail moved to the front seat and took the reins.

Ludwig Steiner stood behind the cart on the paved path. Heike was tight against him, and didn't dare to say a word. His father was well aware of her condition, and had laid a comforting arm around her shoulders.

The prior of Shallya inhaled deeply.

- Well, I think it's time to go.

- You'll be careful, is not it?

- Oh, you know me, Ludwig! I'm not a death-defying. My job is to protect lives, including mine, not to endanger them!

He looked down at the ratgirl.

- I guess what you're thinking about, my child. I promise you to watch over him. There will be no problem.

- Are… you sure?

- I guarantee you. There is no need to worry. Indeed, we go away, on popular roads. Pirates are rare at this time of the year. The presence of a Manann priest will guarantee us good weather and calm seas, and our destination is not very far from shore. It's not even sure that we meet the locals. We go to the temple, we copy and analyse all the sculptures under the protection of Captain Ludviksson, and come back as soon as possible. In a few weeks, if the winds are favourable.

Romulus sat next to the priestess. Tomas went to the back and lifted the lid of a large wicker basket, in which the White Skaven would hide during their passages in urban areas. Psody resolved to lead in turn to the cart, but he stopped before Steiner. The merchant put a friendly hand on the shoulder of the little ratman.

- Everything will be fine, don't worry. I wish you good luck!

- Uh... thank you very much, sir.

Then he looked at Heike. He was shaken by the expression on his face. An expression he had never seen, and he had hoped never to see.

- Well... I have to go.

- Is it necessary?

She spoke to the prior, from behind the young ratman.

- Prior, do you really need him? You know Skaven science, too!

- It's not enough, said Psody. They saw some drawings and listened to my testimony, but I've had real visions, specific and concrete. I am the only one who can fully understand and interpret what we'll find.

- Do you really have to? You... you're not well, here?

- Oh... of course I am.

- So what? I...

She took a deep breath and ventured to ask:

- Don't you like to be with me?

- On the contrary. And it is to be happy with you that I do this.

- By leaving me?

- If I were an ordinary Skaven, I'd stay with you, Heike, but I am a chosen one of the Horned Rat. I have powers, and I have to use them to change things. If I don't do what he asks me in these visions, he may punish me, perhaps he could hurt you. So I must accomplish my duty.

- Ah... You can't rise against the will of the gods.

When he saw the determined expression on his friend's face, the White Skaven felt embarrassed by something. He could not help rephrasing.

- Well, no, I should say "I want. If I just wanted to sit on the ground beside you, I would, but I feel I can do more for you and me, and maybe all the others. Understand our history to accept it and make things happen.

Psody was surprised as he realised that once again the "free will" had prevailed on fallacious and hypocritical arguments. And it didn't seem to upset the young Skaven girl, however.

- You are honest. I feel it. If you think you can do something to change the Skaven, and if you want to, I will accept it. But...

She began to stammer:

- Can I come with you?

The White Skaven smiled sadly.

- I'd like to much-really. But it is a dangerous journey. I'll be able to defend myself with my magic, but if something happens to you, I will never forgive myself. Here, you're safe. It is better for you to stay with Humans.

He approached timidly and slowly hugged her. Then he stepped back, but couldn't turn on his heels. While he was away a few yards, Heike reached out ahead. Then with a little cry, she ran towards him. As she was facing the small White Skaven, she hastily wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed herself against him.

- Let's unite before your departure! I want to have children with you!

- Me too-too, but not now. It would provoke risks for your father. We'll have to find a quiet place outside the city, as did Lady Katel to "start a family," as Humans say. And then...

He remembered the ten children he had with the breeder he knocked up after his initiation, and couldn't help but feel ashamed.

- I've already abandoned a litter. I don't want to leave you alone with our babies. I want to educate them with you, as our Human parents did with us.

- I understand. But what... what if you never come back? You're the only Skaven who treats me like a real person. If you disappear, there won't be another one!

The Skaven girl had tears in her eyes. Psody replied, tenderly stroking her cheek:

- I'll be back as soon as I'm done, and I'll never leave you. I resisted many things I could have died many times, but the Horned Rat has always watched over me. And I'll have the strength to come back, because... Heike, you changed my life. When I saw you for the first time, it boomed in my head. I saw... a real Skaven girl, in good health and happy. That's what decided me to trust Humans. You've convinced me Vellux was a liar, and your father was able to treat Skaven as I hoped. You saved me, Heike. And I... I love you.

END OF THE SECOND PART


	21. Approaching Storms

**Part Three : The Successor**

**Chapter 21: Approaching storms**

For the third time, Grey Seer Vellux took a deep breath, filling his nostrils and intoxicating his sense with the unique, spicy and velvety incense warpstone fragrance. His eyes closed, he wanted to feel the passage of each grain of dust circulating in the body. Gradually, the perception of the outside world was blurred. He had no more awareness of what was happening in his room. Even the slight crunch of the smouldering resin bar didn't reach his ears.

It had been a few moons he hadn't taken the time to do a meditation session. The previous night, the Horned Rat had made him the reproach. So he was sitting cross-legged on a moth-eaten carpet, wearing only his bone necklace and breathing sacred substance of the civilisation of the Sons of the Horned Rat.

A slight smile stretched the lips of the White Skaven. He hadn't felt that sensation for a long time. He thought for a moment, between two chills caused by drugs, and remembered. In fact, he thought, everything went wrong since that fateful day when he had collected the female on which powerful enchantments had been applied. He had learned the wretched creature was an experiment conducted by a sorcerer for Slaanesh, the god of pleasures worshiped by the weird-things.

Since, it was war.

Many times, the Skaven had been bolder and stronger than the sorcerer, Aescos Karkadourian, but a few months earlier, the latter had managed to kill an entire battalion sent to destroy him. And the testimony of a few unfortunate survivors had impressed him. This damned magician was capable of producing dangerous monsters, which could shred the strongest as well as drive crazy the most hardened.

Many of his troops had been lost. Fortunately, these last seasonal cycles, breeders had been particularly fertile, and most recently, the Clans had welcomed a new batch ready to go to battle. In addition, he had an agreement with Warlord Vodaj of Clan Skryre, the head of Treecil, the neighbouring colony.

Treecil was a colony barely larger than Brissuc. It had larger coal resources, and was under a big men-things road. It was easy to intercept caravans, or exterminate the looters waiting for caravans. Vodaj had numerous and well equipped with sophisticated weapons troops. But the most important was that there was no Grey Seer among his ratmen.

The Grey Seer felt his smile widening a little at this thought. And the dizzying fumes whispered to his twisted mind what to do: no more frontal assault, nor risk of losing everything again. An opportunity was going to arise. The point was to grasp when it came. Yes, the Horned Rat would finally allow him to shine as he has deserved for long.

With this fool Vodaj, he would take power over all Skaven of the country. It would be easy, because Vodaj was a powerful and easily influenced leader. A very good combination, thanks to he would soon become a really powerful White Skaven. Some well-chosen words, and Vodaj would be under his orders without even noticing it. Then he would do the same with another leader, then another, and another, and he would succeed in building a strong city that would grow up, grow up and become the new Skavenblight with him at his head!

That's when he felt a discomfort. He raised his eyelids, looked down at his crotch, and realised that these thoughts, mixed with toxic smoke, had titillated him more than he thought. He felt his forehead frowning in perplexity. This kind of reaction didn't happen to him spontaneously for moons and moons. He stood up painfully, put his hand on his waistcoat, then passed his cloak, and zigzagged up the door. Then he trotted up the nursery.

Two hours later, he returned to his laboratory, in top form. He pulled out a small glass bottle stolen to a man-thing, uncorked it and sniffed the scent carefully. During his little business, he had taken care to sample some corporal fluids from the breeder. He closed the bottle and looked at his notes. He remembered what the survivors of Karkadourian's jail told him: the breeder smell could be extremely effective in stopping the surliest warrior. It was necessary to reconstruct the composition in order to make an effective antidote. Clan Skryre could then design special masks with filters to neutralise female odours.

When he sniffed the bottle, he still felt some excitement tingling. But he had to stay focused. That's when three knocks at the door made him startle.

- What now?

- O magnifizent and zplendid mazter of Brizzuc?

Vellux clenched his teeth. Master Mutator Skilit of Clan Moulder might have something important to tell him, as he came to his office in person? He had fulfilled the request of the Grey Seer in time. He had therefore received his special award, and applied to obey orders with zeal. As he was becoming useful, it was better to stay on good terms with him.

- Come in, Master Mutator.

The lanky Skaven crossed the threshold of the laboratory, undulating like a hairy snake.

- Peaze on you, Grey Zeer Vellux.

- Yeah, yeah. What?

- I'd like to zow you zomething. Zomething troubling.

The Grey Seer arose with an exasperated sigh, and followed the Moulder. When they came to the den of the Mutators Clan, Skilit guided his master to one of the laboratories. It was a small dimly lit room with tool racks filled to the brim with soiled instruments disturbing to look and very painful to feel. In the centre, Skilit had installed a handcuffed easel. A young brown fur Skaven, with a blood-stained apron too big for him, fussed around and checked the iron shackles were retaining securely the man-thing attached on. It was an adult man-thing, apparently in good health, who wore the motley warrior uniform of major cities. It had fair skin, its skull fur was golden, and it seemed relatively relaxed, as if it was unaware of what to expect between the paws of the Moulder.

- Zee-zee, Zupreme Grey Zeer.

- So what? It's just a man-thing! Why did you bring me here?

- Well, I was going to use it az zubject for a new experient, but during the preparation time, I felt like a ztrange zmell. It was not the zmell of an ordinary man-thing.

Vellux slowly approached his nose and sniffed carefully. He asked in reikspiel:

- What is your name?

- Magnus, the other replied in a trembling voice.

- Who do you serve?

- I serve... Emperor Karl Franz.

The White Skaven had a cruel smile.

- I can recognise a liar-liar when I see one.

He grabbed the skin of the man-thing's head, just behind the ears, and pulled hard. In a disgusting gurgling, Magnus's face took off, revealing a very different and furious figure. It was a hard-featured male, with a short beard, and round and mad eyes. As it ground its teeth, the two Skaven saw they were sharp. Vellux threw the gangue of bloody flesh on the apprentice who received it in his face.

- Incredible, Skilit murmured.

- Isn't it? You were right, Master Mutator. The smell was Doppelgänger juice.

- Doppel what?

The Grey Seer explained:

- A Doppelgänger is a weird-thing that can change its shape. This creature is too stupid to obey. With the right formulas and its blood-blood, you can mimic its power, and change your shape.

- Grey Seer, look!

Skilit showed something behind an ear of the prisoner. Vellux swung the head of the prisoner by force, and his eyes shone with satisfaction.

- A mark! And not just any! It is the mark of Slaanesh, the god that our enemy worships!

The Grey Seer nodded to the Moulder.

- Thanks to you, Master Mutator Skilit, the Horned Rat will be happy, so do I. I grant you one hour with a breeder. Go now, I'll stay with our friend.

- Thank you, thank you, incarnation of goodnezz!

Skilit didn't linger more, and went out of the lab. The Grey Seer saw the apprentice with the corner of his eye. He pointed a long finger at him.

- You!

The young Skaven jumped, surprised and a little scared.

- M... me?

- Yes. Approach.

The apprentice obeyed. He was trembling.

- Well then, do I scare you?

- Uh...

- I don't remember you. What is your name?

- Lig.

- Don't worry, I have nothing against you. On the contrary. I bet you'd like to do as your master is?

- Oh... yes, of course, the supreme magnificence.

- So help me to persuade the prisoner to answer my questions, and you can enjoy the breeder you want for two hours.

- Oh, you are too… generous!

- For now, work! Show me what you learned from Skilit. Watch out if you kill him before I order! Do you speak reikspiel, Lig?

- No, your majestic majesty.

- No matter. You just do what I tell you.

_And so, no risk you repeat anything._

Vellux returned to Magnus, in reikspiel.

- So, an agent of weird-things alone in the countryside, eh? This is unusual. I want to understand. Explain to me.

- Bah! A rat-faced like you wouldn't understand!

- Try me.

The pseudo-Magnus laughed. The Grey Seer continued:

- Jourg of Clan Moulder was besieging a small man-things castle. He asked for reinforcements, I was going to send him. But when my scout arrived, he found the camp devastated-devastated. Skaven all burned on a great pyre, and machines broken-destroyed. He saw you leaving the castle alone. He thought it wasn't normal for a man-thing soldier. So what were you doing in this castle-castle, and why did you leave it?

The prisoner didn't say a word. Vellux addressed to Lig:

- Step one?

The Grey Seer knew wholesale the procedure to reshape the flesh of prisoner slaves of Moulder. Lig pulled out a long rusty blade knife, tore the puffed sleeve of the shirt of the guard, and made a long incision from shoulder to the arm undercut. The prisoner clenched its teeth.

- It is much less funny, isn't it? Come on! Speak!

- May Slaanesh eat your soul, crap!

- Step two? asked Vellux to the attention of the apprentice.

Lig grabbed a long clip and used it to pick up a warpstone fragment out of a small saucepan. He waved it under Magnus' nose that was seized with a violent fit of coughing. Then he placed the piece of smouldering material in the wound. The male screamed in pain and struggled.

- Why shouting, man-thing? You're turning into a weird-thing, like those you serve!

The White Skaven was right. Magnus' arm began to mutate. Its skin changed colour, and its veins swelled by eye.

- We need more-more to continue the transformation, explained Lig.

- Good.

Vellux returned to Magnus.

- Do I ask this stooge to continue, or you talk-speak?

- I... I was going to send a message.

- You serve Aescos Karkadourian, huh?

- Yes... yes.

- What did you do in this castle with a false face?

- I... was testing the place. My master wants to get Gottliebschloss. I had to bring him everything I could. The siege of your fellows has isolated me for weeks... Anyway, my mission was completed. I wanted to return to my master.

The Grey Seer was almost disappointed.

- Is that it?

He ordered Lig:

- Step three.

The Moulder Apprentice compressed between his fingers Magnus' arm, squeezing the flesh on the nugget warpstone. Small horny growths pierced in places the skin.

- Wait, Skaven! Let me go!

- To prevent your master I face for moons? You're kidding me!

- While I was... in Gottliebschloss... I saw something else.

Vellux raised his finger, Lig released his grip.

- What-what, man-weird-thing? Talk-speaks!

Magnus took a deep breath and articulated painfully:

- The blockade was sabotaged from within. Someone set fire to the powder reserves and rang the bell until it explodes. And yet, I was part of the patrol that eventually emptied the camp the next day and there were only Skaven. Not one of their enemies. No bodies, no survivors.

Vellux's eyes narrowed into two slits.

- That's it?

- No, I've saved the best for last. Promise me you'll let me go, and I finish.

The White Skaven became pressing.

- I promise. So what?

- In the evening, just after lord Gottlieb's patrol was back, we had a strange visitor. A White Skaven, just like you. Who could speak reikspiel. It capitulated. True, it came voluntarily, and we put it in a cage, where it stayed for nearly a week. But after this time, it left with a prior, a gentleman and a Dwarf Slayer who were passing.

This time, the Grey Seer was incredulous.

- A White Skaven who surrenders to inferior beings? You lie-lie!

- No, I swear! May Slaanesh consume me right now if it's wrong!

- What this White Skaven looked like?

- It was not very big, and rather thin. He had a round head.

- Were his horns twisted like mine?

- Oh no! They were all straight!

Vellux's heart skipped a beat when he felt a violent storm bursting in his brain. He muttered in a terrible voice:

- Have you finished this time?

- Yes.

- You don't know where they took this White Skaven away?

- Not at all.

The Grey Seer jumped on the knife Lig had left on the bench. Magnus, distraught, protested:

- You promised to let me go!

- And I keep my promise!

Vellux plunged the blade into the heart of the man-thing.

- You're free!

The Grey Seer left the workshop with a furious not. Lig hadn't understood anything of the conversation, but seeing the raging expression of the White Skaven made him know there would be nothing good to expect from him, so he didn't dare to add a word.

Klur of Clan Eshin was quietly sharpening his knives. The cell door slammed open, revealing a mad Vellux . Klur started.

- Grey Seer? What the...

- HE ESCAPED YOU!

The White Skaven tackled the assassin against a wall and he applied his encrusted dagger warpstone on his throat.

- Psody is still alive! You didn't kill him! And the worst part is he joined the men-things! Who knows what he will be able to do among them?

- But... but I don't understand!

- Me neither! You told me he was dead in this marsh, and yet he was seen in the castle besieged by Jourg! So what? How do you explain that?

Vellux loosened his grip, and crossed his arms, waiting for the answer. Klur was terrified. He fell to his knees, trembling in every limb.

- I… I swear-promise you I don't know! I stabbed him in his back, just in his kidney, and then I drowned-drowned him! I saw the water become red, he didn't move, he didn't breath neither!

- And you didn't check he was dead?

- The weird-things arrived, I didn't had time, and I thought they would eat him!

Vellux clenched his fist in front of his eye.

- You're a good element, Klur of Clan Eshin, and that's why I don't kill you right here, right now. I'll give you one chance to fix your fault. Just one. Go to Gottliebschloss in a minute, where Psody is gone, and bring me his head! Wait, no! If he's dead, find me a solid proof. If he's still alive, find where he's hiding, I'll take care of him myself!

Klur nodded, picked up his knives and walked towards the exit door of his room. As he was besides him, Vellux grabbed his shoulder and whispered in a cold voice:

- Klur?

- Yes... omnipotent supreme incarnate Horned Rat?

- No need to return empty-handed if you want to live.

- Sure... o wisest of the wisest.

- And if someone learns Psody is still alive because of you... you'll end immediately on Skilit's operating table! Got-got it?

Klur had a long shudder, terrified of becoming a Moulder subject of experience. Vellux pushed him toward the exit, he ran away hastily.

The Eshin assassin ran through the tunnel, distraught. As he saw no one, he allowed himself to mumble nervously:

- I thought he was dead! I thought he was dead! Psody is still alive? I thought he was dead?

Klur briefly stopped at an intersection, chose the tunnel leading to the surface, and disappeared into the darkness. He was so freaked out that he had committed a serious error: he spoke without realising that someone lurking in the shadows was watching him.

_Psody may still be alive? How interesting…_ thought Diassyon of Clan Skryre.

The young brown Skaven had changed. His stay in the prison of the sorcerer Aescos Karkadourian had deeply affected him. Every day he thought about Moly of Clan Pestilens, his unfortunate brother passed from life to death in front of him, between the thighs of a Skaven breeder crafted by the sorcerer. When his body had been thrown into the cage, he didn't let him loose until their escape, a few days later.

His characteristic good humour fainted, leaving only a heavy bitterness, yet balanced from time to time by a few bursts of creative fever. But that wasn't all.

All ratmen that shared his fate had seen him pressing against him the swollen by disease and vermin body of the cream Skaven. Logically, he should have been contaminated in turn, and forced to wear the sackcloth of Plague Monks, or expelled or executed. But no rot, no degeneration had begun to gnaw him. Even Grey Seer Vellux had carefully examined him without finding anything. Of course, the question arose. For him, the answer was obvious. Even in death, Moly wanted to prove that he still loved him, and had spared his fate, taking care not to let the corrupt humours invade him. Or, quite simply, it was the will of the Horned Rat.

In all cases, it was certain he was favoured, and this feeling had instilled in him a strong determination: live by his rules. He continued to comply with the laws of the colony, but would have no qualms about eliminating anyone creating him problems, apart from his elder brother Chitik. One of the first to pay would be the dean of Brissuc. He hadn't forgotten the horrors Deacon Soum made endure to poor Moly, and was determined to avenge him. But for now, there were more urgent.

_Klur knows something the whole terrier ignores. He is afraid-afraid. However, only Grey Seer Vellux can scare him. There's a secret between them!_

Diassyon smiled in the dark. He hated the anthracite Skaven, and the latter openly despised him in return. Fortunately, as they didn't belong to the same Clan, they never had to endure one another long. Last moons, their contacts were even nonexistent. Since the loss of his beloved Pestilens brother, the Skryre decided he didn't have to accept the darkness of that one.

So he waited for his return to Brissuc any opportunity to undermine the Eshin. It was a dangerous game, he knew it. Klur didn't show any fault, and anyone who tried to create him problems was quickly found his throat slit in a gutter.

This panic was a weakness, and Diassyon would exploit it!

_I can't do this alone_, thought the brown Skaven.

- Silence, and work! Now-now!

And for a good measure, the Stormvermin grabbed one of the slaves by the scruff of its neck, and administered to it a punch that made jump off one of its teeth and broke its nose. The unfortunate creature flew over all heads with a squeal of pain before flattening in the dust. The other slaves continued with a twice faster speed.

Chitik the Black Skaven was in a bad mood. These last few weeks he had only felt disappointment. First, he still was a simple Stormvermin, without the slightest advantage since the day Furghân started his training. No recognition of his exceptional strength or skill.

When he returned to the Brissuc colony at the head of his maimed comrades after their escape from Karkadourian's jail, he was convinced his bravery and determination would made him earn the title of Fangleader in replacement of Furghân. The leader of Stormvermin had not survived this terrible encounter, and it would have been logical to see the largest and strongest Black Skaven in the whole colony replace him.

It wasn't. Vellux pretended the Horned Rat chose Semik, another Black Skaven, certainly older than Chitik, but less strong. They had already fought each against during a training supervised by Furghân and Chitik won!

The great Black Skaven hadn't understood, and still didn't understand this decision. He was not the only one, some other Stormvermin with whom he was in good terms had been as surprised as him. Semik had loudly proclaimed that his intelligence and experience were simply recognised and rewarded at fair value. And to make matters worse, Vellux showed increasingly unpleasant and authoritarian. Whenever he met Chitik, he humiliated him by insulting or hitting him in front of everyone. As time went on, the White Skaven seemed to hate him and show him at every opportunity. And despite the efforts of the Black Skaven that applied to listen to the word of the Horned Rat and act as one of his worthy sons, the Grey Seer was never pleased with him.

This, plus the pain he still felt about the tragic death of his brother Moly, he hadn't recovered yet, made grow in him a very bad mood for a few days. Among those on a less or equal level than his on the Brissuc social scale, only Diassyon had escaped the wrath of the big Black Skaven. Moreover, he had become the only one able to quickly curb his outbursts of rage. Other Black Skaven had begun to really fear Chitik, and some friends were concerned. Rool, his closest friend, had suggested him to challenge Semik in a duel and to demolish him, to take his place beyond doubt. The big Black Skaven had found the idea interesting, but he preferred to wait until fully recovered from his captivity and to be back in full possession of his faculties before trying his luck.

And the time seemed long. He sniffed and smelled an odour he knew well. Turning his head, he saw the familiar silhouette of the Skryre tiptoeing in his direction.

- Hi-hi, big brother!

- Diassyon! Hi!

- How are you?

- I'm tired! All useless-good-for-nothing! I have to show them they have to obey!

- Be careful, Chitik! You remember Furghân?

- Yeah, so what?

The brown Skaven lowered his voice and whispered:

- You're becoming like him, Chitik. You start easily angered, you knock faster, and you listen to other less. You use less your brain, too. You may become as Furghân, if you're not careful-tempered!

The Black Skaven was about to protest, but he froze. It only took him a little time to realise his younger brother was right.

- What… I don't understand.

- Oh, don't worry. We lost Moly, we saw terrible-frightful things, and our leaders don't take us seriously. I understand.

- Semik is not a good Clawleader.

- And Soum offered me to replace Moly.

Chitik felt a violent blood rage whipping his nerves.

- What?

- Relax! I said no, and I'm not under his control since the breeder that laid us calved!

The Skaven Black saw the determined gleam in his eyes. He slowed his breath.

- I believe you.

- I must speak to you alone-alone Chitik. You follow me?

The big Skaven Black nodded, and they both disappeared in a small hallway. Diassyon made sure no one was hiding in a dark corner, then whispered:

- Listen, Chitik. I'll tell you a secret. A secret between brothers. No one must learn. Promised?

The "secret between brothers" sounded like a magic formula to the ear of the Stormvermin. The captivity matured him a little, he had become more responsible. So when Diassyon spoke to him a matter of such importance, he was able to hold his tongue, even before the Fangleader and - he hoped - Grey Seer Vellux. So, without hesitation, he replied:

- Promised-promise.

- Good.

The brown Skaven leaned forward and whispered:

- It's about Psody.

- What? the Black Skaven almost screamed.

- Shh-shh! Quiet-quiet!

- Oh, sorry. So what?

Both eyes of Diassyon were reduced to two red slots.

- Maybe he's not dead-dead.

- _Huh_?!

- I heard Klur. He was scared. He said, "Psody Psody! I thought he was dead! "And he was afraid!

This surprised Chitik.

- Klur, afraid? Nothing can frighten him! Or he doesn't show!

- He had to be shaken by Vellux! These two know something, Chitik!

The Stormvermin scratched his head with a so confused expression.

- What do we do?

- We stay on our toes, brother. But beware-beware! Neither Klur or Vellux or Mabrukk or Semik, no one needs to know we know. You must never, ever, _ever_ talk about it to someone other than me.

- Uh... Is it so dangerous?

Diassyon took a sorry air.

- Moly said Psody thought differently from Vellux, remember?

- Yes, and then?

- Psody disappeared abruptly after just brought you here when you were hurt, remember?

- Vellux told me he was the one who had brought me back to...

The great Black Skaven stopped seeing the surprised grimace of the Skryre. He then mumbled:

- What?

- This is wrong! This is Psody who insisted that you were getting back! He forced a man-thing to heal you, then he ordered me to fix a stretcher and we took back you here! And the Grey Seer was not happy! He wanted to abandon you!

Chitik's astonishment turned into a dull anger.

- He lied!

- By the Horned Rat, I thought he told you the whole story!

- Why would he lie?

- Because he's a Grey Seer, and he was afraid we stood against him!

- He must confess-confess!

The Skaven Black was going to leave the hall to Vellux's lab. Diassyon held him by the arm.

- No-no! No-no!

- Why?

The Skryre put his hand on the shoulder of the Stormvermin.

- Listen, we must be sure-sure. And if we attack, we must do so at the right time. If we miss, we're both dead.

How right he was, Chitik changed his mind. Diassyon took the opportunity to explain further:

- You must never, ever talk about it to someone other than me, Chitik. If Vellux learns that we know things, we will be skinned alive!

- Yeah... it's true-true.

- Remember! Nobody!

- Nobody.

Diassyon trusted his brother. At their first meeting, Chitik seemed to be a great simpleton, a Skaven a bit cheesy, very muscular but not very smart. However, since the disappearance of Psody, he changed and became more confident, and more thoughtful. Their captivity had confirmed this new maturity. The Skryre knew it: the big Black Skaven wouldn't speak unless he was subjected to horrific torture.

- I must go. I beg you, don't be too angry. We'll have our revenge.

Diassyon friendly patted the shoulder of the Stormvermin, and vanished in the tunnel.


	22. The Emerald Country

The _Determinazione_ split the water with such ease that looked like it was hovering above the ocean. The few waves were breaking over the bow, and the foam burst into thousands of small gold particles.

Hallbjörn Ludviksson was impressed. Of course, during his childhood, the Norse had participated many times in fishing trips with his father and other men of his village. The seas off the coast of Norsca were cold, dark coloured, and were so hard to tame. In addition, the air was often cold, full of spray and mist floated silently above the water surface. And the sun rarely pierced the fog, and even the cloudless days, timidly warmed the atmosphere.

The great ocean that separated the Old World and the mysterious and rebellious continent to which he and his mercenaries were heading was significantly different. He had heard many stories o this subject, all very different, but all agreed on some points.

First, the heat. The sun was particularly bright. Its thousand lights reflected off the sea with such intensity that is burning eyes if we do not take careful. The sea, moreover, didn't look like the same at all. It was a colour such the Norse had never seen, and seem to be hot than the waters of Tilea or Estalia. So clear to be transparent near the coast, with a shade of sapphire, it seemed really foreign to Ludviksson, yet accustomed to the navigation.

The sun was still high in the sky. The mercenary captain squinted and spotted a dark line in the distance, above the waves. As if to confirm what he thought, the marksman, Nedland Grangecoq, stationed at the lookout, rang the bell, shouting:

- Land! Right to land!

Ludviksson went to the captain in his cabin. He knocked on the door and entered. Giulio da Firenze was doing calculations on a map.

- You've heard, Captain?

- Yes, dear colleague. If my calculations are correct, and I think they are, we have Lustria at sight.

Someone else knocked. It was prior Romulus.

- We're arriving, Captain. And without any pirate. How great!

- I made this race a dozen times. Imperial galleons regularly patrol the sea lanes, and keep the Elves pirates away.

- They can, Ludviksson chuckled, thinking back to the huge warship they had met two days earlier.

- I thought Elves sailed on floating fortresses?

- Yes, but they venture only onto the northern seas. They don't like tropical climate, and avoid if they can. But the potential misfortunes rather came from your crew, if you know what I mean. First, a woman aboard attracts trouble...

- Sister Abigail is not a woman who attracts trouble, I guarantee.

- Yeah, except you have added a rat! I don't understand why Manann didn't already send us all sixty fathoms under! Speaking of rats, what is becoming this one?

- I'll check it out.

Romulus left the two captains and found himself on the deck. He climbed the wooden steps and mounted the rear castle. He saw Psody's small horned silhouette, leaning on the railing. He turned around when he heard his footsteps on the creaking floorboards.

- Oh, prior Romulus...

Psody had not left the cabin of the prior during the whole trip. The first two days, seasickness had retained him in his hammock. Then the diet of fish and canned food, more frugal than the meals at Ludwig Steiner, had adverse side effects on his stomach. The sun had been also a problem: he certainly was now used to the outside world, but in the open southern sea, the solar star that burned the sky and the sea at the same time was much more aggressive for his eyes. The heat was so stifling in the cabin, even with the window open, but at least he was in the shade.

The most problematic was his own situation. The priest of Manann, friar Pieter, argued that a Skaven aboard a ship was an offense against the god of the oceans. Fortunately for the little ratman, the mercenaries who accompanied him were tough guys, and greed kept them away from any superstition, justified or not. However, a few times when he had ventured on the ship, he had met one or the other mercenary of captain Ludviksson. None other than the prior or the Norse captain had spoken to him, and he had felt every time a palpable mistrust. The mercenaries didn't fear the wrath of the gods, but a betrayal from him. Then he withdrew to the castle back and gazed dreamily on the horizon.

For the first time in weeks, the young ratman was out in daylight. When the clergyman saw his sad face, he found:

- Well, you look so creepy!

- It... it... it never happened to me.

- Sailing? I know, but don't worry, we're almost arrived.

- No, that's not the point.

Romulus tried to be reassuring.

- You fear your former master pursuits you?

- Uh...

- So far? With all this sea that separates us from Brissuc?

The small Skaven White hesitated before saying:

- My brother Diasssyon told me about an invention of Clan Skryre. A kind of boat that could go underwater and travel faster thanks to warpstone!

- If it's the case, your peers are more advanced in technology than I thought. No need wind, no more storms to fear, nor pirates... Well, anyway, be realistic. Vellux thinks you're dead, and even if, unfortunately, he learned you're still alive, do you think he would lose his time and energy to chase you? He probably has other things to do.

- Other plots to prepare, the young ratman muttered.

- I was thinking "other plots to avoid," the priest replied with a small smile.

Psody turned back towards the stern of the ship.

- I wonder if I have been right to come...

- Wait! It is for you that we have organised this expedition. It is too late to turn back now!

- I know, and I have no intention of backing down... but my heart-heart thinks to Heike.

- Ah... I see.

Psody gave a little sigh.

- This is the first time... I feel this sensation. Like a terrible hollow in my chest.

- Don't worry, she has absolutely nothing to fear. Steiner takes care of her for three years, and there has never been any problem. Are you afraid of never coming back?

The White Skaven turned on his heels and said sharply:

- No! The Horned Rat is with me and guides me! I know we are doing this for a good cause, and I'll be back to her! It's just that... I miss her presence. It's less easy to think when she's not there. I struggle to think of anything but her face smiling at me. At night I dream of her.

- Oh... It is love.

- I didn't know it could cause so much pain.

- This is exactly what makes its spicy, my young friend. With love, you can see all with a very optimistic eye. But at other times, it literally twists your hoses. I hope I won't frighten you by saying there is few reactions more human than this one.

- Not really. Lots of things have changed for me since we met.

- Love is something that doesn't exist in Skaven, right?

Psody murmured thoughtfully:

- Don't be so sure. I got something from my big brother, Chitik, remember? It was more than just a sense of duty.

- With the ladies, it is something else, especially when one of them hidden all your thoughts. It's not the same love.

- So, there are several kinds of love?

- Indeed. The love Ludwig gives to Heike is that of a loving father to his daughter. What your brother showed to you was blood ties. You guessed, there are many different loves. I wish you to know the greatest number.

The abbot cleared his throat.

- I have to go see Günter.

- Does he get better?

- No, unfortunately. I don't want to talk about misfortune, but in my opinion, he's not going to make it.

Two days earlier, while they were engaged in fishing, Günter Zimmermann had fallen into the water. Nothing serious at the time, all the mercenaries had laughed, him mainly, but unfortunately, when he went back on board, a huge fish had bitten him, and had snatched a large piece of one of his legs. Despite the unwanted care of Romulus, the wound was quickly infected. The boatswain had given his bunk to the young swordsman, who had not moved since.

Friar Pieter had obviously interpreted the incident as a sign of Manann's displeasure. The others didn't have specially paid attention, but Psody, priest himself, knew that the gods could have a direct influence on events, and took seriously the concerns of the cleric of the god of the seas. He was eager to get to land over; the longer the trip would last, the greater would be the risk to see another tragedy hit the _Determinazione_.

A bell rang, calling all the crew on deck. The prior waved his hand toward the young White Skaven, and both joined the others.

Captain Da Firenze coughed, and announced:

- Gentlemen... miss, I have bad news for you. Your friend, Günter Zimmermann, despite all the efforts of the prior Romulus, has been collected by Morr.

Nobody reacted. Death was a constant companion in the life of every rent mercenary, and no one had time to mingle with the little lad. Although he had seemed friendly to everyone, he would not be missed for long.

- We have planned a funeral service for him, which will be said by Friar Pieter.

- After the office, we land, continued Ludviksson. I'll go with Sister Abigail, Nedland and Wor. Votiak, I want you to take the other boat with Sigurd, Romulus and the little white rat. We'll find a place to pitch the tents. Other then join us in making round trips.

- We should not lose too much time, warned Nedland. In this corner of the world, the sun rises early, but sets early, too. And unlike the Empire, night falls quickly. In ten minutes, it's a dark night, and I mean dark!

- Another reason not to lose time, said friar Pieter. Do not make wait Manann.

The office was short and simple. There was no effusion, no great ceremony, or a profusion of tears. Only Psody remained baffled. Romulus stood near him, to reassure him. Indeed, death wasn't sacred to him, and this kind of mass seemed both mysterious and a little scary. Ludviksson and three of his most burly men had laid the body of Günter completely wrapped in a blanket on a board. They ballasted him by attaching a cannonball to his legs, and then they dropped him in the water. Günter sank straight down, and disappeared into the deep water in a second.

- May Manann collect the soul of Günter Zimmermann... and forgive our sins, brother Pieter whispered while watching the small White Skaven with a jaundiced eye.

Captain Da Firenze saw the discomfort of the ratman, and decided to speed things up.

- Okay, guys, help me to move the boat. We will approach the coast a bit, there is still some time before nightfall.

The _Determinazione_ stopped again, and the captain anchored. The land was now close. The crew could see the beach. Psody marvelled. This sand then was not like the one he had seen in Marienburg. It was white, shining in the sun. The water was as blue and clear as sparkling sapphire. All the Norsii, who had never travelled so far south, were surprised to see the vegetation. Trees with large flat leaves, and an embattled trunk. A little further, a river flowed into the ocean.

- What a strange forest!

- This is the jungle, Harald, explained the Halfling. Nothing to do with what you've seen so far.

- This may be the time to tell us everything you know about it, moreover, suggested Ludviksson.

The scout nodded, then he jumped on a barrel, and spoke to the wings. Psody could not help but look at his big hairy feet.

"Good. Listen, all of you: I think I'm the one of us who knows best Lustria. I do not pretend to know everything, but I went there a couple of times, and I have learned several important things. To begin with, you know, here is the country of Lizardmen. "

Nobody reacted to that word, but the Halfling felt the anxiety thrill over the company. Psody, in particular, bit his lower lip. Lizardmen and Skaven were enemies since eons, and every Skaven citizen had this ancient fear written in his blood, even if he had never seen one in his life.

"At first glance, we are alone, there is nobody on the beach, but I'm ready to bet if there are Lizardmen around, they have already spotted us, and they're watching us. I guess you're wondering what we can fear, I'll try to answer you. The first Human shipments arrived a thousand years ago were massacred by the natives. Up to a few years ago, Lizardmen very fiercely defended their territory, and eliminated the intruders without hesitation. However, there were some Human explorers like Marco Colombo who have managed to have relatively friendly contact with them. It happened very slowly, but it happened.

"Things have changed a bit over the last decade. It seems that Lizardmen have more or less accepted the presence of foreigners on their continent, provided they do not depart from the beaches. Tileans and Estalians built two or three ports on the nearby smaller uninhabited islands. We didn't go to avoid crap, compared to the little white rat, but hey, it's not worth Sartosa, anyway.

"The lizards are held away from the ports, but they spread the word: the jungle are prohibited to us, as their cities. We have a "small advantage" in the sense that we go to a city we think rejected by the majority of their people, there is a good chance that there is no one. Perhaps this city has been abandoned since Colombo's trip. The boss pays us well for two reasons: first, because it is a dangerous job, then to avoid bad temptations. The Lizardmen must not see one of us steal anything. No looting, no damage, nothing. We are here to do research, and I mean research."

Captain Ludviksson then said in a loud voice:

- So, let's put things straight right away: the first one I catch filling his pockets won't hae time to have regrets, I kill him on the spot. I refuse to risk my skin by putting native angry for a mistake made by one of the men under my responsibility. Is that understood? And I want to remind another rule. No need to hide, most of you don't trust Psody. I don't blame you, but remember we're supposed to protect him. I remember, if he tries a dirty trick to me, I break his neck myself. But if one of you surprises him doing something fishy, you bring him me without too much damage, I decide what to do. Don't do yourself justice, unless your life is really threatened before witnesses. Is that understood? Okay, so here we go. Prepare the boats! Votiak, you go with the prior, Sigurd and the little white rat. Wor, Nedland and Sister Abigail come with me.

Votiak was Ludviksson's lieutenant. He was also the oldest of his warriors. He was a tall man with a square face, with an aquiline nose and two blue eyes deeply sunken deep in their orbit, a broad, thick forehead. A grizzled beard covered his cheeks and chin, but let see how his jaw was prominent. He smiled, which made him look like a strange animal.

- Let's go.

A few minutes later, the two boats followed the movement of the waves to shore. Sigurd and Votiak rowed in pace.

- All right, prior? asked the latter.

- Yes, thank you. I am glad to see land! I feel better on earth.

- I understand, you're right, with snakes, spiders, lizards...

- You are accustomed to the sea, you Norsii?

- Yep! Real sailors! Sigurd answered proudly.

- But on the land, we can do it, too. And I confess that I am eager to arrive, too. I really want to get me some quarry.

- I'll take the opportunity to fill our water barrels at the river, we're almost out of water.

- But... why worry? Water, it's plenty!

The master chef grumbled:

- Hey, rat, you don't teach me my job! When I say there is no more water, there is no more water!

- But... what about and of that? Psody insisted, pointing to the sea.

Sigurd looked at the little White Skaven with astonished eyes, then he laughed. He cried to the attention of the head:

- I don't believe it! Hey, Hallbjörn, you didn't tell me he was such an ignorant! He wants to drink seawater!

- Understand him, Sigurd! He's a rat who has never left his sewer!

Psody turned to Romulus.

- I don't see what's so funny!

- Well... taste this water, you'll see.

The young ratman plunged his hand into the sea and then brought it to his mouth. Hardly had he put water in his mouth that he immediately spat, and loudly.

- Ugh! Yucky!

- Do you understand now? This water is full of salt.

The boat landed on the beach, and stopped short. Both Norsii dismounted. Psody jumped and shivered when his toes came into contact with cold water. He uttered moans and deftly lifted his embroidered dress. He walked on dry sand after a few steps, followed by the prior. Votiak and Sigurd pulled the canoe ashore and tied it to the nearest tree. A few yards away, Ludviksson and his men made the same manoeuvre.

Psody breathed deeply, and his senses were bombarded with a multitude of new sensations. Intoxicating fragrances, gaudy colours, birdsong that he had never heard, and other sounds like wind in the trees, and the roar of the river.

- Ho, rat! Wake up, we've got work!

Psody blenched, and hastened to join the others. Without complaint, he helped the Humans to unload equipment. Votiak and Sigurd went back to the _Determinazione_ to get other men, each in a canoe, while they remained on the ground prepared to install the bivouac. They moved away from the beach to plant the tents in the land, a little later, near the river.

An hour later, all the mercenaries had landed, and the camp was established. It was time, indeed, as the sun was beginning to set, and the first stars appeared. The Halfling disposed some stones in a circle to make a fireplace.

Psody realised he was terribly thirsty. He approached Nedland, and asked:

- Say, sire Grangecoq?

- Yeah, Psody?

- I'm thirsty. Think I can drink this water?

- Yes, that's why we moved to side. But check there are no critters in it!

The White Skaven crouched beside the river. The water was so transparent the bottom could be seen. He spent a long minute to scrutinise the river, and saw nothing. He knelt and bent down to drink. The clear, cool water made him a world of good. He heaved an ecstatic sigh when suddenly loose earth collapsed under his weight. He fell into the river with a frightened cry. He struggled with all his energy, and squeaked in panic.

- Help! I can't swim!

Romulus, Hallbjörn and Abigail rushed toward him. Without hesitation, the Norse jumped into the river. The water wasn't very deep, it reached his waist. He grabbed Psody by his horns, and threw him over his shoulder in a movement.

- Calm down, calm down! Come back!

He rested the little ratman on the land, and left in turn. The prior slapped the back of the Skaven White several times to help him spit waterspout.

- It's okay, you're safe.

- Brr... I hate being wet.

Indeed, the little ratman was soaked to the bone. He shivered, and felt discomfort heating his cheeks when he heard the mocking laughter of the Norsii. He found a place in the sun, and resolved to remove his dress, turning firmly his back to Humans. He hung his dress on a tree branch, and shook himself length. Then he stood motionless, to let the sun dry the last drops of water trapped in his fur. Behind him, Romulus looked at him head to toe.

- You have changed a bit, haven't you?

- How so? asked the White Skaven, turning to the Human.

- Well, the first time I saw you, you seemed really small, thin and fragile. I feel that you have grown. Not much, but you won a few inches. Your voice broke a little, too.

- Possible. At our meeting, I had perhaps not finished my growth?

- You seem healthier. Straighter, more strong. You are no longer sickly, you are more solidly built. And you don't cough more, you don't snort neither. In general, you seem to get better.

Curious, the young ratman rat downed his eyes, and looked at himself. He eventually found that the prior was right. He was no longer a weakling with sickly members, but now had a plump body, with supple and firm muscles, and his build was now like a Human teenager in full health. He also realised that he hadn't had the nose or trachea encumbered by anything for long.

- It's true. I feel everything is more enjoyable. What is it because, in your opinion?

- A healthier life, far from polluted warpstone underground. Sun, clean air, more exercise and better nutrition. So many little things very few of your fellows should enjoy, which strengthen your anatomy.

Psody remembered the presence of mercenaries who were staring at him with the corner of their eye. Instinctively, he felt inconvenience, and asked in a pinched tone:

- I don't want to show off my anatomy to everyone. Do you have something to cover me to lend me?

Romulus reached into a bag and pulled out a shirt and a long tanned leather coat.

- Here, it belonged to Günter. He won't need any more.

The White Skaven pulled the shirt, passed the mantle, and contemplated his reflection in the river.

- Not bad at all! I like it!

- Keep them. I have nothing against the mage robes, but in a place like Lustria, it's better to wear something more convenient. Take that, too.

The prior handed the White Skaven a long-edged hat.

- It is important to protect yourself from the sun as it hits hard. In the regions of the Empire, you don't have much to worry about, but here, the climate is different. If you stay bareheaded, it may heat up your blood.

Psody had not noticed earlier, but he realised that all expedition members all wore headgear more or less developed, from a simple scarf tied around the head to plumed hat, or leather cap. Romulus had pulled the hood of his white dress. The little ratman put his hat on his head. He was surprised to hear some of Hallbjörn's men guffawing.

- What? he asked, turning his head.

The hat fell at his feet. The Norse approached.

- I'll arrange that, little white rat.

He picked up the hat, held it at eye level and stared fixedly at the head of the young White Skaven. He drew his dagger from his belt and cut out two holes in the felt. Then he pushed the hat on the head of the little ratman. He did well, and the cap perfectly fitted, letting the two horns pass.

- Right! So it won't fall.

- Uh...! Thank you, master Ludviksson.

- Since we made a stop, I'll enjoy it, said the templar. I'll go a bit away, I need to refresh my skin, too. And I advise you not to follow me, if you value your bones.

And she followed the river and disappeared behind the trees. The young ratman had a nervous pout.

- Wow!

- Don't imagine all women have the same gentleness and patience as Heike, my young friend, or you'll expose to unpleasant surprises! Romulus chuckled.

- Bah! She seemed to me a good girl, watched Nedland.

- She is, but she has spent her life having to deal with men who don't have so much respect for women in general. It's important for her to put things right as soon as possible.

- Strange, women are not allowed in Human armies?

The prior explained the small White Skaven:

- Know that the profession of arms is almost devoid of women, so when one of them wants to rise in the hierarchy, she must be twice harder than men! In this, our society is not so different from the Skaven. Outside too rare exceptions, power is held by men. And women are generally confined to the tasks to properly operate the home.

- At least, they can make themselves useful, Psody noted. Not like my birthplace.

- Yeah, how do Skaven behave with girls? Wor asked.

The question took the little ratman by surprise.

- They use them to reproduce.

- Is that all?

- Yes.

- They take pleasure, at least? inquired another.

- Normally, yes. But they are the only ones.

- What? exclaimed Sigurd. You mean that if a Skaven knocks his chick off and she doesn't like it, he doesn't care?

- Uh... yes.

This response did not fail to trigger controversial reactions. Some snickered, others made a contemptuous grimace. Votiak asked:

- Hey, you got a girlfriend, don't you?

- Uh...

Psody felt his fur wetting twice, and not just because of the climate. He wouldn't reveal to these people the existence of Heike!

- Come on, don't be shy! insisted another, a tall blond Human with braided beard. I saw your head throughout the trip. Was that of someone who has left his wife behind him! Go ahead, tell us! You're engaged to a giant rat!

- ...

- I knew it! sneered the man. Hey, doesn't bother you to hustle a long whiskers girl?

- Note, with such horns, I wouldn't worry about her moustache!

And the men laughed harder. The small White Skaven turned his head, very uncomfortable. One day, Steiner had made him read a theatrical farce where it was about cuckolding, and the little ratman had learned the meaning of this joke. Hallbjörn Ludviksson realised it, and raised his hand.

- Jorund, let him be. He didn't ask you the length of the whiskers of _your_ chick!

Once again, some mercenaries had a mocking laugh. The captain approached the appointed Jorund, and whispered:

- I care this girl, too, then hold your tongue when you talk about her in front of me, if you don't want me to shove it into a unpleasant place.

Jorund laughed a little, but gave a small nod as his smile nervously diminished.

Psody was particularly unsettled. He was among a group of warriors on which he had absolutely no authority. He couldn't make them swallow their mockery, unlike his life in Brissuc where he could strike down with a finger snap any Skaven who would have dare disrespect him. In addition, the captain had confirmed that he had tried to hide. The latter changed the subject.

- Okay, guys, the little white rat has shown us there is no dirty beast in the fleet. I think we all need to refresh.

- Especially you, Hallbjörn! Votiak joked. You stink like a thousand bucks!

- It's better than stink like an old heifer like you. Come on!

And without any complex, the Norse completely undressed, put his wet clothes on a large stone, and threw himself into the river, quickly followed by all other members of the company. Mercenaries sprayed water on the face, laughing.

Psody stood stunned. Whether at Lady Katel's hme or in Steiner's domain, Humans didn't demonstrate such a lack of decency. The whole company was now in the water, including the Halfling, Nedland Grangecoq. He called:

- Hey, you don't come with us?

- Uh... said Psody who felt his cheeks flushing.

- What are you afraid of? Votiak laughed. Come on, it's good!

- You know well water, the sewer rat, right?

How to explain things without offending anyone?

- I... I've drank enough.

- Come on, don't your shy! Dive!

- No, really, I...

This time, he was sick. Turning to the prior, he broke the conversation.

- Prior, I go meditate a little further.

- Don't move too far. You don't know what you can get here.

But the young ratman didn't listen. Seized with a sudden rise of sadness, he went to isolate a few yards away behind a large bush.

He found a tree trunk near the river. He sat on it, buried his head in his hands and wept in silence.

- I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have... What an idiot!

- Hey, what's the matter?

Psody blenched and looked over his shoulder. The constant sound of the river had covered the footsteps of Sister Abigail, already smothered with grass. The Templar had abandoned the Myrmidia priestesses traditional dress and was now wearing a light coat over a striped linen trousers. She became aware of his condition, and found herself a little worried.

- Oh, excuse me. You prefer to stay alone?

- I... I don't know.

- You want to talk about?

- You don't mind talking to a little Skaven horror?

The young woman sat down next to him.

- No, otherwise I wouldn't suggest you. This is about what the guys think? I understand this isn't nice to you. You see, they didn't have an easy life. They are used to hard times, and often speak faster than they think.

- Oh, it's not only them... it's everything.

Sister Abigail smirked.

- Romulus told me about you on the boat. I don't think you're a bad person. Of course, many Humans seeing you would be terrified or attack you on sight. Not me, as long as you behave well, obviously. In addition, according what the prior told me, you're still a child, it is normal some things remain beyond you. They do not realise it.

She handed him a handkerchief. The White Skaven sniffed and wiped his eyes.

- I didn't expect to see you so nice.

- Oh, you mean what I said before going swim? It is necessary that I do understand to others I need some air, especially after these past weeks on this ship, among all these men. That's how, in Humans. Well-bred people don't bare themselves before anyone.

- That's what I've been taught. It did not seem to bother them at this time.

- They are not really "well-bred people", Psody, but mercenaries, and many venture together for a long time, they know enough themselves not to pay attention. But I want my privacy.

- I hear you. They laughed at me!

- Oh... they don't want to be bad, or they would have been really hostile toward you, even before our departure. Is this the reason you're so upset?

- No, Sister Abigail. Well, not only... I seem to have made a big mistake by leaving.

- It's about your girlfriend, isn't it? Do you miss her a lot?

This time, Psody didn't answer. His sad eyes were eloquent enough.

- Why are you doing this?

- How so?

- All this expedition, the travel, and now the jungle of Lustria... Of course, the mercenaries are paid, and I'm doing this because I want to, and because Romulus asked me, but what about you?

- To... to find answers. I have visions, I want to understand their meaning. I think... something or someone is sending me messages, and it is probably here that I'll find explanation.

- Right, but for what purpose? What does it bring you to have these explanations?

- I would be more peaceful... If I understand what it means, I'll feel much better, maybe I must accomplish something in particular, and it will stop. And I can move on. Living my life with Heike.

- So, finally, it is to be happy with her you're engaged in this quest, right? In a word, you listened to your heart.

- Uh... yes, Sister Abigail.

- So it was not a mistake.

The young woman ran a hand through her hair, and unravelled some wet strands. The little ratman couldn't help saying:

- You have a remarkable skull fur... uh, I mean "hair".

- Coming from you, that's a nice compliment. Thank you.

- I had never seen such a colour.

- There is no red Skaven?

- Not to my knowledge, but I don't know as Skaven as you could believe. I lived in a small terrier, there were only a few hundreds of them, perhaps a thousand... Surely not as much as Altdorf.

- Romulus told me you talked a lot about you and your society to the man who hired us. I don't want to make you everything if it bothers you, but... could you tell me a little about Skaven, on occasion?

- Oh, yes... a little. It really interests you?

- I always enjoyed talking with people from different ethnic groups. It's a part of my training, Myrmidia templar travel a lot.

- I could tell you a couple of things, yes, and when we're back, you can read Steiner's notes.

The White Skaven turned his face to the priestess. She saw her reflection in his big pink eyes.

- I enjoy your company, but I prefer to speak frankly: my heart is with Heike.

- Yes, and then?

This question unseated the White Skaven.

- Well... didn't you want to... be intimately closer to me?

The woman laughed.

- If you were a Human, I would have flattened your nose to have thought of such nonsense! But you're a Skaven, and you probably have a lot to learn about women!

- Uh... yet you seem to want to get closer... to me?

- Sure, but know that for us, a woman may want to become closer to a man without having an intimate relationship with him! Anyway, given our differences, it seems impossible to go further.

- You're right, and I owe you apologies. I really have much-much to learn about the Human society.

- Come on, I forgive you. I'm sure Heike will teach you when we get back. I suggest you just be friends. We can be friends?

- Of course! A bit like sword-brothers?

- Exactly.

With a knowing smile, Psody reached for Abigail, who firmly clenched. Then he asked:

- And you, do you have someone in the Old World waiting for you?

The young woman sighed.

- No. You know, a lot of Human girls hope to marry a prince like in fairy tales when they are young.

- Heike read me this kind of story. She told me that it makes Humans dream.

- Indeed, when we grow up, we understand that reality is less wonderful. I chose to serve Myrmidia because... life didn't leave me choice. And I doubt it would change.

- Oh, don't say that! Since my birth, my fate was sealed. I would be a Grey Seer, or die at the hands of one of my peers or by my own madness. Ultimately, it didn't happen like that. I truly believe if we are asked to follow a destiny, we still have a way to make it bend to us, and not vice versa. I was born to serve the Horned Rat, but not in the way my former master explained to me.

- Do you regret this life you had before, Psody?

- Not at all! Humans like you taught me how life could be pleasant to live. Without fear, without lies, without warpstone, without my master and his bad influence... and with love.

The young woman gave a small nod. The small White Skaven coughed and murmured:

- I'm glad to talk with you, Sister Abigail, but... I wish it was so easy with the others. I discomfort-embarrass them, don't I?

- Don't be too angry against them, Psody. True, some of them told me you worried them a bit. This is because they don't know you.

- It's like in Skaven: the unknown causes fear, and fear causes aggressiveness.

- Some of them have lost a friend or relative because of Skaven, especially those who lived in Nuln.

- Sir Jaeger spoke me about the great invasion of Thanquol that took place a decade ago. He told me that it was not pretty.

- I've heard so, indeed.

- Ah, there you are! then the voice Nedland said.

The Halfling scout swiftly joined the young woman and the little White Skaven.

- You'd better go back, night fell, and we don't know what trudge in this jungle!

- You're right, sir Grangecoq replied the Templar, getting up.

- Uh... all right?

Sister Abigail put a sympathetic hand on Psody's shoulder.

- Our young friend told me his fears of having a little strained relationship with your company.

- I understand, said the Halfling, nodding. Listen to me, little guy, I've been watching you during the trip. Sure, you don't have a face that we all trust in a minute, but Ludviksson assured me you were rather sympathetic. I appreciate your little concern vis-à-vis the other guys. And I have a great way to fix it.

- Which one?

- Follow me.

Nedland brought Psody to the fire camp, while Sister Abigail went to bed. Well installed around the fire and relaxed, mercenaries joked happily. Tomas and Romulus had already withdrawn. The scout explained the young White Skaven wanted to "discover their evening activities". With a smile, one of the men invited the ratman to sit among them. Psody spent the evening in the cozy camaraderie atmosphere of professional adventurers. Very quickly, the beer turned, the most amusing anecdotes were shared. Hallbjörn sang songs with very suggestive lyrics. Whenever the young ratman asked the meaning of the slang, the explanation made him grimace of surprise, much to the amusement of the wings. At the end of this memorable moment, the mercenaries had definitively adopted the White Skaven as one of their own.

**Author's note****: I thank you for your patience, I had a significant exam last week, and therefore, of course, it was necessary to revise. And no, it was not the degree, I passed it fifteen years ago. Thank you all for your fidelity, your passion, and thanks again to those who took the time to post a comment. Keep reviewing!**

**Glory to the**** Horned Rat!**


	23. Assassin's Credo

Klur of Clan Eshin was nervous. He really didn't like to be outside. Even in the dark of night, all those little sparks in the sky, this vast area without limits above his head, the sounds of night birds he did not know put him uncomfortable. Every time he went to the surface, he had remained there for a couple of hours, and he could do it. But Gottliebschloss was an isolated place, away from any tunnel or burrow, and to reach it, the coal-black Skaven had to walk in the open air much longer.

The forest had at least the advantage of partial shelter from the sky. Leafy branches cracked over his head. He looked behind him and clicked his tongue to call the laggards. He did not left alone. Master Assassin Tweezil had stopped him just before leaving Brissuc, and ordered him to take with him three apprentices he didn't want to bother with. Three Skaven trained in the use of knife and blowpipe. The smallest of them, with dark brown coat, was called Koursy. The beefiest, Vissan, had a grey hair. The third, taller and leaner, had a dark coat with bright stripes, and answered to the name of Sazyé.

Klur disliked act within a group, and preferred to work alone. But he should always obey the Master Assassin, if he wanted to continue to rise in the Clan hierarchy, and to learn the magic of Clan Eshin someday.

They arrived close to their goal. Before them loomed the dark shape of castle Gottliebschloss. Sazyé chuckled:

- Oh-ho! Many slaughter! I smell blood-blood!

- Shut up! Klur spat. Silence now! Let me think.

The anthracite Skaven spent several long minutes gazing at the castle to study carefully its configuration. It was still relatively intact, without weakness in its wall. A round tower reinforced every angle of the walls. In the middle of the courtyard stood the dungeon, where, he knew, generally lived the head, according to men-things customs. Some men-things guards were walking around the walkway.

- Chief, the low voice of Koursy whispered.

- What?

- What's the mission?

Klur had seen fit not to mention their goal until the last minute. This moment was probably appropriate. He took a deep breath and said in one go:

- The head of men-things knows a secret. A secret that could make the Clan Eshin rich and powerful. I need to find this head, and you'll help me. Note I should be able to wrest his secret off before kill him, so you certainly don't have to hurt him before I'm done with! Got it? If any of you do anything before me, he dies-dies!

- What is that secret, exactly? Vissan asked.

Without hesitation, Klur sent in a gesture one of his throwing knives directly into the throat of the grey Skaven. The latter fell with a strangled squeak. Koursy and Sazyé remained stunned. Their eldest withdrew his knife with a jerk, and glared daggers to his assistants.

- Want to know the secret, too?

Neither the one nor the other replied.

- I was sure. We go now.

Klur knew where his target was. At least, he had a good idea. Still looking at the castle, he saw several windows cut into the dungeon. He knew the men-things used to live as high as possible to better identify enemies, unlike the Skaven, who remained deep underground. The man-thing head was likely hiding in the highest room. The Gutter Runner made a small gesture, and the three Skaven headed toward their goal, crawling in the high grass. Their dark coat blended into the darkness, which didn't bother their accustomed to the darkness eyes. They could see the flickering flames of the torches set along the walkway.

While progressing, the anthracite Skaven distinguished the smell of Skaven blood that still soaked the earth, despite the rain and the wind that had swept the region. The defeat of Jourg of Clan Moulder had been particularly violent for the Sons of the Horned Rat. Klur vowed to make pay high price to men-things.

They stopped at the moat. It was a great trench a dozen yards wide, and with a similar depth. Unlike others, it wasn't full of muddy water, but bristled with long wooden stakes planted to heaven as to threaten it. Very gently, Klur downed into the bottom of the pit, imitated by his two comrades. So as carefully, the three Skaven passed between the spears, taking care not to crack any.

Ten yards... a Skaven would normally cross the distance in two leaps. Sazyé stamped, impatient to leave. All these brought up rods provoked in him a sense of claustrophobia. He however remembered Tweezil's teachings on self-control, and made a big effort to calm down. Koursy, in turn, applied to follow Klur, putting his own feet in the trail left by his elder.

After an indefinable time, the three Eshin went up out of the trench, and were up against the wall. Klur raised his nose and sniffed. Men-things evolved slowly over them. He didn't feel fear or aggression yet. He smiled.

_Not seen-seen!_

It was time to get serious. He quickly scanned the brick wall in front of which they were. He spotted a feasible corner near one of the angular towers between two walls. Without hesitation, he clung to the cemented stones and climbed. Koursy and Sazyé followed him.

Klur said nothing, but inside he was fuming. Usually, this kind of wall was a simple workout for the Eshin. However, he still felt Vellux's anger and his arm shook. On the other hand, the two minions were much less confident than he has, and climbed much more slowly. The anthracite Skaven stopped, closed his eyes and concentrated. He usually loved murder missions, but this time he was so nervous he took no pleasure to do this one. When he lifted his eyelids, he was about to choke with rage. Sazyé had gone him over and Koursy was right behind him. Like if they were trying to humiliate him!

The young brown Skaven reached out to reach a new grip, when he skidded. Distraught, he grabbed the first thing he could to stabilise… Klur's tail. The anthracite Skaven yelped sotto voce:

- What the Hellpit are you doing? Let me go, you fool!

- No! I don't want to fall!

The anthracite Skaven hissed in rage. He lifted his tail up, to rise Koursy up to his feet. The young brown Skaven looked relieved, believing the Gutter Runner would help him. Naturally, he was wrong. Klur sent a powerful kick on Koursy's snout, who fell with a short yelp.

Immediately, two men-things guards ran in the direction of the two Skaven. Klur cowered in strengthening the niche, while Sazyé crawled up to the wall on the other side of the corner tower in a flash.

The anthracite Skaven swung his ear up. He heard the men-things exchanging a few words. He was glad to have learned their language.

- What was that? asked the first voice.

- I don't know, sergeant! said a second voice. It sounded like an animal.

- Hopefully this is not a beastman again! moaned a third voice.

- You think so? Oh! Oh no!

- Come on, be more courageous, soldier Kerner!

- But, Sergeant... you know as long as we don't have renew our troops, any attack can destroy the whole place!

- Enough, Kerner! Do not talk like that, or you'll upset Ulric! It's just a boar that has fallen into the pit. You see there is no one! Its carcass will be removed tomorrow. Go, return to your position!

Several boot sounds on the pavement went away. Finally, there was nobody. Both Skaven joined on the walkway. Together, they came down on the other side, and found themselves in the court. They hid behind a stack of barrels where they took back their breath.

- Well, here we are. Now we have to climb to the top of this tower.

- How do we kill him? Blowgun? Warplock pistol? Or throwing stars?

- _I_ take care of him, Sazyé. You stay here-here, and if ever a man-thing gets too close, you whistle!

- Yes, chief...

The Gutter Runner picked up from the folds of his cloak a tail blade, a short flat blade attached to a ring he passed to his tail. The fur-striped Skaven wasn't highly concentrated. It irritated Klur, who whispered in a full of suspicion voice:

- Hmm... You seem distracted-inattentive!

- Oh! Uh... well... that's...

- What-what?

- Chief, you have heard the men-things?

- So what?

- They are still weak! Clan Moulder provoked a lot of damage-damage! We can take-take this hutch!

It was an idea, and Vellux could possibly reward the one who would propose it. Besides, Klur realised something else that made him frown.

- You mean you understand the language of men-things?

- Yes! Tweezil taught me.

This confession was Sazyé's last error. The next moment, he was dying behind the pile of barrels, his throat slit from one ear to the other, while Klur climbed the wall. During his ascension, he congratulated himself for his foresight. No risk of being betrayed by one of his rat-men who would sell the wick Tweezil. It took him a minute to reach the highest window. When he did, he cast a quick glance. He saw a man-thing leaning on a desk, writing something. It was very wide, and its face was covered with a thick shaggy fur. Instinctively, the anthracite Skaven knew he just found his target. He went very slowly through the window. The man-thing got up, showing its back to the Skaven. With one jump, Klur pounced on it and tackled it to the ground. He turned it in a movement, sat on it, clad his hand over its mouth and put on its neck the knife he held in his other hand, and the edge of his tail blade.

The big hairy man-thing widened its eyes and its face immediately flooded with sweat. It tried to speak a few words, without success. The Eshin whispered in an approximate reikspiel:

- Careful-careful, man-thing. If you move too much, if shout-scream, kill you. Understood-understood?

The man-thing nodded. Klur pulled his hand away from the mouth of his prisoner. He asked:

- You Gottlieb?

- Yes.

- Good.

Klur could not help feeling a sense of pleasure reminding him what he felt when he had fun with a breeder. The smell of fear of this man-thing was a delight. But he didn't forget mission. He brought his snout close to Gottlieb's nose, and asked:

- Where gone is Grey Seer?

- Let me go, Chaos offspring!

The Lord tried hard to move, but Klur pushed more strongly his blades on its throat. He repeated in a threatening tone:

- Where Grey Seer gone is?

- What? I do not understand!

This response unseated the Skaven. In fact, he had not planned what to do in case of misunderstanding. This sub-creature was perhaps too limited to know what a Grey Seer was.

- Messenger of the Horned Rat.

- Who? What?

- The Horned Rat! Grey Seer messenger is. Where?

As the head didn't answer, Klur tried a simpler approach.

- Skaven with white hair and horns. Do you understand?

- Huh? Who is Skaven? Ah yes! "Skaven" is your people, isn't it?

- Yes! squeaked the Eshin eagerly. Skaven are Sons of the Horned Rat. I know here hidden a Skaven with white hair and horns!

Gottlieb seemed to think, and finally exclaimed:

- Yes! A small White Skaven with horns!

- That's it, that's it! How name Skaven?

- Uh... wait... Potry or... Psody!

Klur startled by hearing the name of his younger brother. So that was true. He didn't kill his target, the small renegade Grey Seer had escaped death! And if he didn't discover where he had left, he would suffer Vellux's wrath! He absolutely had to know. He put his free hand on the cheek of the man-thing, and thrust the tip of his claws into the white flesh of the man-thing. He articulated:

- Where is Psody?

- I ... I do not know.

- You lie! Speak!

The Gutter Runner noticed a change in the mood of the man-thing: fear gave way to anger.

- I knew this damned creature would bring misfortune!

- Enough! Tell to me where is Psody! Now!

- Okay, okay. Better this little bastard gets what it deserves! Your friend...

- Psody not my friend! Psody traitor to my people!

- Yes, sorry, I understand! I… Psody was taken to Altdorf.

- Altdorf? the coal-black Skaven.

- The capital of the Empire of Humans! You know?

Klur said nothing, and thought. All Skaven knew Altdorf, and the citadel of Sub-Altdorf, one of the largest cities of the Sons of the Horned Rat. Altdorf was not far from Brissuc, it took only a few weeks on feet to get there, and all the Skaven there were well informed about the society of men-things. But Altdorf was a very large city, and find a small White Skaven wasn't easy. He had to ask the man-thing chief other information.

- Tell me something else!

- That's all I know, I swear!

- Tell me something else more! Klur growled, dropping some drool bubbles on Gottlieb's head.

- W... wait! He... he didn't go alone. He was with three other people!

- Who?

- Two Humans and a Dwarf! There was a Shallya priest, Romulus, and two adventurers. The Human was called Felix, and the Dwarf, Gotrek!

Klur rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

_Gotrek and Felix... Curious, it reminds me something... Vellux should know._

Then, returning to Gottlieb:

- You know something else?

- No, no! On my honour, if I lie, I die!

- Right!

And without further ado, Klur threw its head back, and severed its carotid with his two blades. Blood spurted from gaping wounds like a double geyser. The smell of blood made him turn his head, he drank a few gulps greedily sucking directly one of the wounds.

When he had his account, he sat and chuckled softly. Suddenly, a shot rang out in the office. The bullet threw the Gutter Runner back. A sharp pain exploded in his shoulder. The anthracite Skaven rose, and saw a she-thing. It was taller than him, had a yellow skull fur, and looked into his eyes with flashes of rage sparkling from its wards. It was holding a smoking musket. Klur hissed loudly, showing off his incisors. The female does not seemed scared.

- What are you doing here, freak?

The Skaven slipped his hand under his cloak, to hold his clavicle. He lowered his head and backed away slowly to the window. Then suddenly, he threw one of his daggers right to the heart of the female. This one was even faster, and jumped to the side. The throwing knife bounced on the stone wall. Three armed men-things with halberds appeared at the door.

- A beastman!

- By Ulric's mane!

- It murdered the Lord Gottlieb!

- Kill it! the breeder ordered.

Klur didn't wait more. Without hesitation, he jumped out the window. Fortunately for him, he had spotted a pile of hay near the barrels. The straw cushioned his fall. The men-things at the window cried. Someone blew a horn. The Eshin jumped and ran to the wall. Adrenalin reduced the pain of his shoulder, and he didn't have too much difficulty to cross the wall. Other shots rang out in the night, the bullets ricocheted around him without touching him. He didn't want to plunge into the pit and risk being impaled on the wooden stakes. He quickly spotted a place where climbing would be less dangerous. While crossing the trench, he heard a loud chain scraping.

_The drawbridge!_

The men-things seemed really determined to catch him up. Even deprived of musk glands, he felt a panic. When he climbed out of the trench, he rushed at full gallop towards the forest.

Klur followed the smell of urine of his assistants to find his way back to the burrow. His nose to the ground, he ran as he had never run. The leaves crunched under his feet, and the tree branches above his head spun so fast he had the impression to circulate in a tunnel. He felt his lungs ablazing, and the air circulating so violently across his throat it became painful. The coal-black Skaven was able to take some impressive bursts of speed to escape his enemies, but he was not used to running so fast for so long. He cast a quick glance behind him and laughed between two coughs. Nobody had been able to follow him.

Suddenly, something white and sticky literally jumped in his face. In a quarter second, he found himself completely immobilised. He gasped in surprise and blinked as he realised he was tangled in a huge sticky silk web stretched between the trees.

- Gotcha, gotcha! then whistled a strange hissing voice.

Klur couldn't even move his head. He saw a dark and truncated form moving towards him and facing him. The Eshin felt his heart panic. He saw a very disturbing creature that had absolutely nothing natural. This thing had the head of a Skaven, the tail of a Skaven, but its bloated body was that of a monstrous spider. It had four long legs and four long articulated arms.

- Oh! What a beautiful fly!

Klur screamed with fright. The spider-Skaven lashed its tail, and planted the end of its appendix in the neck of the anthracite Skaven. He immediately lost consciousness.

Klur awoke with a spurt, and understood he was in a bad posture. His ankles and wrists were attached, securely fastened with a chain padlocked around a long steel rod stuck between two tree trunks. He was therefore suspended like a captured animal, without any equipment or clothing on him.

- Well, well, finally woke-aware?

The coal-black Skaven craned his neck to the one who had spoken. He shivered in spite of himself. He was in a clearing with two tents set up on either side of a fireplace. Before him were standing five Skaven. Normally, Klur should have felt a little relieved to find beings of his kind after having escaped the men-things, but these Skaven could not be true Sons of the Horned Rat. Their appearance was strange, unhealthy. All had their fur painted with bright colours, especially cyan, pink, purple, or turquoise. Their body also was disturbing to watch. One of them had huge ears deployed such two flesh fans, and a flexible tube as a nose twitched in an almost lewd movement. The second had two muscular legs fitted with hooves, and a horn emerging from its forehead. The third Skaven was wielding four cutlasses, which was hardly surprising considering the fact it had four arms. The fourth ratman exhibited huge sharp like daggers teeth, planted in a long jaw nearly a foot long. Its claws were equally threatening. Finally, the fifth, the one who came forward to present the Eshin, had prey bird feet, its back was strewn with feathers, and its eyes, split with a double pupil, what conferred it a particularly disturbing glare.

Klur thought at first he was seeing any Mutator of Clan Moulder creative madness, but he soon realised it was not, when he saw the tattoos inked on the belly and chest of his captors. Without difficulty, he recognised the drawing representing the weird-things god of pleasures.

- Who are you? he spat.

- We are the New Children of Aescos replied the bird-Skaven.

- Aescos... Karkadourian?

- Himself, trumpeted the long-nosed Skaven.

- You're ugly, all of you!

- And you cannot see the beauty. You'll never make it, as you have not received the illumination of Slaanesh.

The Eshin clenched his teeth. These Skaven had therefore abandoned the Horned Rat, and had gone to the side of one of his enemy gods.

- Unworthy Sons of the Horned Rat!

- Your Horned Rat is nothing compared to Slaanesh! the bird-Skaven retorted.

- You know, there is not very long, we were like you, explained the four-armed Skaven. Grey Seer Vellux sent us to death. When weird-things have happened, we thought it was the end.

- But, eventually, Karkadourian didn't take our life, continued the trunked Skaven. He gave us a new life with a new body and new sensations!

Klur widened his eyes in surprise.

_Chitik said all those who didn't return with him were dead! He was wrong! Karkadourian turned them! They are weird-Skaven now!_

- Karkadourian will kill you when he has no need of you, idiots-suckers!

- You think Vellux would have done better? He kills Skaven from other colonies, or make them slaves. But we have received a wonderful gift, and you could also have this gift-present.

- You are crazy! Release me!

- Not yet, whispered the bird-Skaven. First, we need to talk-talk.

- What, infamous traitor?

The feathered Skaven chuckled and hissed to the trees. Branches crackled, leaves rustled, and the spider-Skaven dropped itself to the ground. It wore on its back a body packed in a thick white web.

- Get out him of here, we'll play a little.

The clawed Skaven tore the cords with a few pawing, and took out of the silk residues the small dark brown hair Skaven. Klur creaked in anger.

- Koursy! You little vermin! You gave-denounced me!

The young Eshin didn't look like a happy Skaven who tricked someone else. He trembled with fear. The feathered Skaven explained:

- We captured this little bunny as he was fleeing. Too afraid-afraid to resist, he told us he had participated in an important mission. We collected his piss-piss to do a false trail-trail and our friend Rekrap here took you in his nets.

The clawed one and the hoofed one maintained Koursy between two saplings, and Rekrap, the spider Mutant, tied his wrists and ankles with his sticky web. The bird-Skaven came within inches of the Eshin. It tilted its head forward and asked:

- I want to know what you did in those men-things.

- Die-die!

- No, it is you who will die-die, if you remains mute. See how.

And the real suffering began for the unfortunate Koursy.

The young Night Runner groaned and felt terror tears in his eyes. The Mutant Skaven with big claws opened a package of leather, and pulled out a short flat blade and soap. The anthracite Skaven had seen such accessories in men-things homes, near bathtubs. The Mutant dove soap in a bucket full of water, smeared Koursy with white foam, and methodically began to shave him.

The operation lasted a long time. Sometimes, Koursy uttered a little cry of pain, especially when his executioner shaved a sensitive area of his body. When he no longer had any visible hair, the clawed Skaven threw the bucket of water to flush him and took undisguised pleasure to torture him, slowly, very slowly. First, he tore his eyes off, one after the other. Then he severed with his teeth the fingers of one of his hand, then the other. And he strake his flesh with wounds with its long nails.

Klur remained silent. To appease his captors, he contemplated this odious spectacle, knowing that the consequences could be terrible for him if he pretended not to get into the game of these abominable Skaven. The desperate squeaks of his accomplice made him clench his teeth. And he stronger he cried, the more the Mutant Skaven laughed. This heinous treatment seemed to last forever. Finally, the bird-Skaven made a hand gesture. The clawed Skaven nodded, and without hesitation, plunged its hand into Koursy's breast, pulled his heart out and thrust it into his mouth.

Finally, the cries ceased. There was nothing but the smell of blood, and the disgusting gurgling of all the guts of the Eshin, which spread on the grass. Klur was dumbfounded. He had no idea of such a display of violence, in such a methodical manner.

_They are insane-insane!_

It was then that he noticed in the distance, the horizon was turning pink, announcing the arrival of the sun. The plucked head spoke to the others.

- My friends, the day will rise. We'll let our guest some time to think. Rekrap, go back to men-things castle to survey. Now go to sleep.

The spider-Skaven climbed the trees in a flash. The others went under their tent. Only the chief remained near Klur. It murmured:

- Next night, you will choose: either you tell everything you know, and you renounce Brissuc and you follow us, and Karkadourian you turn into one of us, either you insist to be quiet, and you end up like your apprentice did, worse.

The feathered Skaven gratified its prisoner with an icy smile.

- You know, it tingles a little at first, but you won't regret it.

- The Horned Rat will make rot entrails to all of you, infidels!

- The sun will help you think, Eshin. Enjoy it well!

Then he went to lie down in one of the shelters.

Klur of Clan Eshin was now alone. The sun began to warm his fur in an unpleasant way. The light stung his eyes. Spittle rose to his lips. The sickening spectacle shook his stomach, but he was determined not to let it go.

_I must escape! But first, wait until they sleep-sleep._

The coal-black Skaven wasn't a terrified and defenceless novice. He had a plan. He had to wait to be sure that all of his captors were asleep. He decided to take one hour. A time during which his exacerbated sense of smell was polluted by Koursy's acrid stench, already attacked by hundreds of insect scavengers. After half an hour, he felt an oppressive envy tickling his bladder. He writhed as he could, and got into position to be able to urinate into the ground without putting on his coat, and risk of keeping too much scent on him.

Then, when he thought the time had come, he bent over and pulled his ringed tail right under his nose. He spotted between two rolls of flesh a long scar not visible to the untrained eye. A cut from one of his opponents quicker than he was? No, he did this slash himself. Precisely in forecast of a day like that. He gnawed his appendix, as gently as possible. Quickly, a few drops of blood oozed from the reopened wound. He licked, fumbled with his tongue, and finally found what he sought.

He grasped between his teeth a small metal ball. This ball was the head of a long pin, which he had hidden under his skin, to have always something to pick locks. He slowly pulled the pin out of its hiding, wrapped the tip of his tail around, and with infinite care, introduced it into the padlock. It took a long minute to successfully unlock the shackles. The lock gave way with a loud click, and the anthracite Skaven had a free hand. While now suspended by his arms, he extricated his feet, and fell to the ground.

Finally, Klur was free. He promised to put another needle once back to Brissuc. With a stick, he picked up a piece of spider-Skaven web and placed it on the wound to stop the bleeding, and to avoid leaving a track. Then he walked away on tiptoe from the clearing. In passing, he took one last glance at the two tents where Mutant Skaven were sleeping. He didn't hesitate long. He continued his progress by crawling, then walked a few yards, taking care not to crack any branch. As he felt to have sufficient distance from the camp, he ran at full speed towards the colony.

While galloping, Klur wondered one thing, and just one.

_Koursy died, he terribly suffered-suffered. He broke my ears by screaming. Why didn't I punish this feathered Skaven?_

It did not take long to find the answer.

_I won't risk my life to avenge such a worm-shabby!_


	24. Culture Shock

_A teeming and squealing tide swarmed around the clearing. Skaven flashed by hundreds from burrows, emerged here and there around the citadel. They were motivated by a murderous madness, had foaming at the mouth and scraped the ground with the long sharp nails of their hind legs. All were sickly, covered with filthy robes and stained with bodily fluids bandages. Many of them waved a banner with three boards nailed in triangle._

_All were heading to a great city built entirely with stone. On its walls, Lizardmen defended themselves fiercely. Despite their reduced number compared to their opponents, they resisted effectively. The smallest of them used spears and bows to repel their attackers, while the biggest clubbed the ratmen who climbed over the walls._

_Oddly, other Skaven fought alongside Lizardmen, against the sick Skaven. They were very different from invaders: healthier, dressed with the same feathers and trinkets than bipedal reptiles, they used the same weapons, and fought with a more visible passion._

_A small Lizardman gestured to the teeming mass of ratmen, and gave a short croak, sign that reflected his concern. And it really took a lot to concern a resident of Lustria._

_The being that stood before the city was a real concern. It was a gargantuan proportions ratman. It was about twenty feet high, without counting its huge curved forward horns and its long, ringed and fleshy tail. It wore no other ornament than strips of cloth around its wrists, its bare skin was covered with forming coarse cabalistic signs scars, including the triangle of the Horned Rat. In places, chips of gross warpstone were embedded in its flesh, and faintly glowed, creating strange reflections rippled over its muscles. It held between the talons of its left hand a ten feet long glaive, with warpstone flakes on its blade. It radiated from its eyes immeasurable evil._

_The White Skaven with horned temples blinked and took shelter behind a niche. He shouted with all his might:_

- _VERMINLORD! VERMINLORD!_

_He knew what to expect, although he had never seen one in another way than in his nightmares. From what he had learned about the Skaven remained faithful to their way of life, the greatest champions – usually little more than one in a generation – were rewarded after a impressive tour de force with a burst of power granted by their unholy god. These champions were then transformed into giant horned Skaven, with godlike intelligence, strength and powers. They were then called to live in the plane of existence where the magic Skaven and other demons came from, up to be called by a Grey Seer, the time for a decisive battle. They were called "Verminlords" and they were regarded as incarnations of the Horned Rat._

_And one of them was running with the whole strength of its two powerful hind legs straight to the citadel! He gave a more thunderous as the most violent hurricanes roar, brandishing his glaive. The Skaven who raced to his side squeaked with a redoubled rage._

_On the wall, the White Skaven thought in full speed. The few Skaven near him were terrified._

- _Master, what can you do? one of them moaned._

- _To fight with all our strength, Pelui. There are many, but unlike them, we have the home field advantage._

- _Yes, but what about this horrible monstre? The Vermo... Virmi ..._

- _Verminlord. It is the embodiment of their god. If only Xarkish was there!_

_One of the young Skaven burst into tears. He threw himself at the feet of the White Skaven and bellowed:_

- _High Priest, I don't want to die!_

- _Don't worry, everyone is afraid of dying at least once in his life._

- _We cannot do anything against them! They are too strong!_

- _Torak, the Slann have always resisted to the Xa'Cota. And we'll help them. We'll defend our city! Look, they're resisting._

_The White Skaven was right. The Lizardmen riddled with arrows the ratmen, and the large lizards warriors quickly eliminated those who reached the walls._

_This didn't give back courage to Skaven. Pelui turned to the priest._

- _It's really awful, High Priest!_

- _This is not the first time you take up arms, Pelui._

- _Yes, but so far, it was against the corrupted Elves, or undead, or demons! But now... I've never had to fight against my kindred! The Slann are too wise to fight against themselves, they do not know what harm it can do!_

_The White Skaven put a reassuring hand on Pelui's shoulder._

- _Pelui, never forget that Slann are exceptions. All other people fight against themselves. Elves face their traitors. The Human country is divided into small kingdoms, which are perpetually in war. Orcs spend their life fighting against everyone, including and especially their own._

- _How do you know? There are no Orcs or Humans, here!_

- _The Slann are omnipotent, they are able to see beyond distances. Xarkish accompanied me in this kind of meditation. And I saw. It's unfortunate, but many people kill their kindred. And remember, _remember_ you're not like them!_

_The White Skaven spoke to the whole group._

- _They are Xa'Cota, mad ratmen who worship a vicious god and seek only to corrupt or destroy everything they can! You are the children of Sotek, the God of Sun! Our duty is to prevent them obliterate everything we have built over the years!_

- _Use magic, High Priest! Torak besought._

- _I cannot! Kroak has forbidden me to learn it!_

_The huge creature was now within a few yards of the wall. It held its glaive, and immediately a green bolt crackled to the warriors on the wall. Lightning burst, and a whole section of the wall exploded in a crash._

_The White Skaven had the reflex to throw down, hands on his head. Then he heard something, a metal friction noise. He opened his eyes and saw a small object rolling towards him. It was a globe as big as his fist. He recognised a lucky charm usually carefully stored in a special room, carried by a warrior only in case of battle. This globe, he knew, was made of solid gold._

_Solid gold, golden like the sun. This gave an idea to the priest._

At the point where we are... maybe I can trust Sotek!

_The White Skaven handed carefully towards the globe, gently picked it up, and concentrated. He wanted to feel the purity of gold, the favourite material of the Lizardmen gods. And, to his amazement, he felt something. The globe began to warm between his fingers, and to shine. He looked towards the heavens, and whispered a few words in the ancient language of the Lizardmen. The globe kindled with a golden glow that reflected in the eyes of the ratmen. He held the light ball above his head, and cried with a magical energy amplified voice:_

- _FEEL THE ANGER OF THE GOD SUN!_

_A golden ray sprang from the globe, and struck the Verminlord directly in its forehead. This gave a roar of pain so powerful that no one heard anything else for a moment. The light beam burned immediately the skin of the creature. As the light passed over its body, it melted with incredible speed. Within seconds, it found herself on its knees, unable to stand._

_This scene immediately destabilized all the ill-looking Skaven who stopped short. When the huge creature was nothing but a mass of quivering and informed flesh, they scampered in all directions._

_Before dying, the Verminlord straightened its head a last time, and the White Skaven distinctly heard a voice which thundered in his mind:_

- _I WILL FIND YOU, MISERABLE TRAITOR ! ONE DAY, YOU, OR ONE OF YOUR HEIRS, WILL UNDERGO THE ANGER OF SKARNAGOTH, SIXTY-THIRD CHAMPION OF THE HORNED RAT!_

_These were the last words uttered by the Verminlord. Its putrid carcass finished to dissolve, leaving only a large green and smelly puddle._

_The Lizardmen hastened out of their shelter, equipped with torches. They scattered, and set fire to many bodies of diseased Skaven. Others remained inside to treat the wounded, aided by their Skaven allies. Driven by curiosity, the White Skaven priest went out, wanted to approach what remained of the Skaven demon. He however stood a few feet away, the smell prevented him to come closer._

_The sound of a horn sounded in the distance. He stood up, his eyes sparkling with hope._

Finally!

_Reinforcements were there. Although the Xa'Cota were routed, their assistance would be most welcome, as well as to provide first aid than to eliminate the fugitives that could still be prowling around._

_A minute later, a small army of Lizardmen approached the clearing. The White Skaven priest burst into a relieved laugh as he saw the one who was the head of the battalion: it was a big toad with bare and glistening moisture skin, who moved hardly on his two thin legs bending under its weight. It wore a cloak made of multicoloured feathers and an ornamented cap._

_The White Skaven ran to the huge toadman, and threw himself into its arms._

- _Finally! Sotek be praised, I was about to desperate to see you!_

- _My friend! I arrived too late! I am awfully sorry_

- _Do not worry! We stood firm. Losses are minimal, and our city is saved!_

- _You did miracles._

- _I was not alone. The others believed in me, and defended themselves with conviction!_

- _It was you who defeated the Verminlord. You were the only one who could do so in my absence. The gods really favoured you when you came into the world! I knew it, as soon as I saw you for the first time._

_The toadman pushed its cloak, revealing a weapon he carried to its side. It drew it from its belt. It was a kind of stick provided with a flat blade, cut and set with obsidian thick tips. The White Skaven widened his eyes when he saw his interlocutor reaching it to him._

- _Take it._

- _No, I cannot! I'm not worthy!_

- _Of course you are, you deserved it._

- _This weapon is sacred! It received Slann priests enchantments!_

- _Your heart is Slann, whatever the others think. Don't ever forget that. Even though my father was a frog and yours a rat, we are brothers!_

"We are brothers."

"We are brothers."

"We are brothers."

This sentence sounded three times like an echo in the mind of the young ratman as he regained consciousness. Psody raised his head and opened his eyes. Then he grimaced.

_Ow, my head!_

He crawled out of the tent in fours. Once open, he took a deep breath. Gradually, other members of the expedition woke up, some went to the river to splash water on their face and torso.

- Hello! exclaimed Nedland Grangecoq approaching the ratman.

- Ouch! Oh...

- So what? You look bad!

- Nedland... what happened? Have I been clubbed on my skull-noggin without realising it?

- Ah, pal... this is what happens when you don't have the habit of getting drunk! Nedland laughed happily.

- It is like if the warptrain Diassyon told me about was going through my head!

- A good lesson for you, then said Romulus. Drinking alcohol is good in the moment, but if you're not careful, it causes unpleasant reactions! Try to not to drink too much, next time!

Psody then had a so annoyed expression that the prior could not restrain a little tender laugh. He reached into his knapsack and pulled out some herbs.

- I'll prepare something. Why don't you splash water on your face, it will refresh you.

While the little ratman washed himself in the river, Romulus put a cup full of water on the fire. He mixed the herbs when the water boiled. Gradually, other members of the expedition emerged from sleep one after the other, and out of their tent. The young White Skaven sat at his side.

- There, have some.

- Thank you, prior.

- Oh, we're closer now. We went together to the end of the world with a band of professional adventurers, from my point of view, this experience creates bonds. Call me so Romulus!

- Well, if you want... Romulus.

Between the two large tents, a smaller one had been installed for Sister Abigail, the only woman of the group – although she didn't let her femininity to be an obstacle, there were still limits. Psody saw the priestess muddle out and stretch.

Hallbjörn quickly joined the two men of religion. His posture and panting suggested he wasn't really reassured.

- What's going on, captain?

- There's something wrong, prior!

Romulus, Psody and Abigail followed the captain. He brought them to the canvas under which the men had collected the material of the expedition. Behind the big pack, in the direction of the jungle, a long spear was stuck in the sand. Something tossed to the wind at the upper end. Nedland Grangecoq was watching carefully around with his spyglass. Psody felt every hair on his fur bristling.

- By the Horned R... uh, I mean, damn! What is this?

He thought he had seen light-coloured fruits, alas it was not. The three dangling objects were skulls. The worst for the little ratman was to recognise the morphology of his kind.

- Skaven skulls, Romulus murmured.

- They... you think...

- Unfortunately, yes. You were right last night, sir Grangecoq. They already know we're here, and wish to inform us.

Tomas, the clerk of Verena, cocked his head to the side to better examine the skulls.

- Hmm... These bones look pretty old. Do we know if Skaven are here?

- A long time ago, Clan Pestilens landed here and was able to bring new diseases to the Empire. The Plague Monks were driven out by cold-things. I don't know if there are many Skaven here today. We learned to fear cold-things, and usually, we're never going to their home. There may be some Skaven coming from time to time, but generally they are exiled. There is no more permanent Skaven city. I think so.

Psody pulled his hat over his head, and said with a swaggering tone.

- The cold-things are too scared by us, otherwise they would have shown themselves! With you, I'm not afraid! You are the best-best! We'll find Tixoco!

- Well said! Votiak approved. Indeed, the little ratman has in his pants!

- Even he's not wearing pants! exclaimed one of the mercenaries.

There was a laugh that the captain Ludviksson broke, addressing to the whole company.

- Well, according to our map, a few hours of walking will be necessary, not much more. The less it takes time, the better it will be for everyone, and we know it. But, as you saw, night falls quickly, and in the jungle, we will no longer see anything. So, as soon as night falls, we camp, wherever we are.

- If we're at Tixoco at this time, this is where we stop?

- Yeah.

- But it is their territory!

- The forest also, except that at least, in the temple, there will not be any vegetation to hinder us.

- There's something else, explained Nedland. The sun rises early in this corner of the world, and the temperature rises rapidly. The advantage is the way to Tixoco goes along the river. We won't lack of water. So follow the instructions: drink each time you want to, and even if you don't feel thirsty. You dry at full speed, especially when doing the walk through the forest.

Captain Ludviksson coughed.

- Some of us will stay there to watch over the _Determinazione_. Wor, Sigurd, you'll be at the head of the group that I will constitute.

The Norse appointed some men. About a quarter of the company remained on the beach. Others gathered their belongings and set off.

Nedland, accustomed to long journeys into the unknown, held the map copied by Felix Jaeger. There was a natural path that meandered through the trees, but the vegetation was denser, and soon the group had to stop. The men then came out sharp weapons to clear their way. Ludviksson then gave Psody a short sword. Nedland cut flexible lianas with a curious instrument: it was a kind of broad and flat blade with curved end, attached to the end of a handle. When one of the young volunteers of the company asked him what it was, he replied that he had bought this item, this "machete", during his previous trip. This tool was very efficient.

They thus advanced for three hours. During this time, the mercenaries went from surprise to surprise. Exotic plants, colourful birds with melodious singing, the croaking of big frogs lazing near the river, the scent of huge flowers, were so many new discoveries. Then the sound of the river grew louder. The land seemed to rise. A little later, they saw a little cliff a dozen yards high, from the top of which the river flowed in a cascade. Ludviksson ordered the halt.

- Ned, are we still far away?

- No, but we'll have to climb now. According to the map, the temple is atop a ridge above this waterfall.

- Okay. I'm going forward with you, Abigail, Romulus and Psody, just to see what awaits us discreetly. For the others, when we reach the temple, we will pick you up. If we see lizards, we also go back.

- What if the lizards spot you first? Tomas asked.

- Better limit risks, at least here you can see them coming, and five will be less noise.

The mercenary captain turned to the dean of his battalion.

- Votiak, I want you to take command until I return. If there is no sign in an hour, send someone verify that there is no trouble. If you're attacked first... you know what to do.

Votiak nodded and patted the horn carved from a huge horn of some creature from the Chaos Wastes hanging at his belt. The captain, the Halfling guide, both church persons and the small White Skaven White engaged on the path amount.

The path rose more hardly. The trees became scarce, and the stones bigger. They walked half an hour, when they came to an abyss.

- Damn! What now?

Romulus held out his hand.

- Look, Captain Ludviksson.

A little further downstream, there was a bridge made of planks tied along strong ropes. When they approached, they realised that the building was not in very good condition. Some strings were frayed, and some planks seemed rotten.

- Fortunately, we are not too heavy loaded, this bridge doesn't look solid.

- As you say, my sister. I am the lightest, the most agile, I go.

As no one objected, the Halfling engaged cautiously on the bridge. He took a few steps, felt the strength of the construction, and moved more frankly. As nothing happened untoward, Psody went after, closely followed by Romulus and Ludviksson. Sister Abigail brought up the rear, her spear wielded.

The bridge slightly swayed under the barefoot of the young ratman.

_How long-long!_

Indeed, this bridge stretched over nearly a hundred yards. And when he looked down, he gulped seeing the chasm deep of a distance twice as large. Suddenly a terrible cry made him startle.

- Attention, ahead! Nedland cried, clutching his rifle.

The five companions saw three creatures flying in their direction. Psody thought at first there were prey birds, but when they got closer, he realised they were not. No feathers, no beak, only scales.

_Flying lizards?!_

Which were preparing to dive on them! Nedland aimed, and his gun thundered. The blast echoed off the walls of the cliff, and mingled with the screech of the flying lizard which tumbled below.

The second winged lizard flapped its wings, causing a surge of air that destabilised Psody. The little White Skaven had the reflex to grab with both hands to a string. It was then that his gaze directly met that of the flying creature.

And for a moment, time seemed to stop. A short moment, sufficient for the young ratman to understand he didn't see the look of a creature defending its territory. There was something else, another smarter presence, more insidious.

He didn't have time to see more. Sister Abigail walked at his side, and brandished her spear. The membranous winged volatile impaled itself on the steel edge. It squeaked loudly, stirring the air more and more furiously, then didn't move longer. The templar took it down her weapon with a kick.

- What was that? Ludviksson asked to Romulus.

- I don't know! Marco Colombo has not talked a lot of wildlife in his travel log.

- Watch it! Psody yelped.

The third flying reptile charged again, a heavy stone between its talons. The Halfling barely had time to reload his gun. He aimed, focused two seconds and pulled the trigger. The creature was hit in its neck and dropped the stone that arced toward the bridge. Psody nimbly stepped aside, and the stone fell a hair of his left foot. The White Skaven was not hit, but the shock splintered a big hole in the bridge, which began to pitch dangerously.

The young ratman lost his balance. He tried to stabilise by waving his arms in vain. Hallbjörn rushed toward him, hands outstretched. He saw the small White Skaven fall into the hole, pushing a piercing cry. His hands closed on something meaty: Psody's long ringed tail. The latter was upside down, his clothes upturned on his face, and cried both panic and pain.

- HELP! HELP!

- Do not move, little white rat!

- OUCH! OW! THAT HURTS! I'M FALLING!

- Hold on, Psody, we'll take you back!

The prior ran in turn to the two gossips, but he stepped on a worm-eaten plank that cracked under his weight. Fortunately for him, he didn't completely fell through the bridge, his leg sank up to his knee. However, he was stuck.

Hallbjörn clenched his teeth. He saw the Psody's tail pink rings slipping through his gloves slowly but surely. He pulled, and pulled. Below, the little rat lifted his head and began to mutter a few syllables that the Norse didn't understand. Suddenly, he disappeared completely. Hallbjörn felt his fingers touch in a snap. His eyes widened.

- By Ulric's fangs! No!

- What? Did he fall? Romulus exclaimed, still stranded.

The Norse dragged to the edge of the hole, fearing to see the body of the young White Skaven tumbling into the maw, but he saw nothing.

- Holy crap! Where is he?

- I'm here, Hallbjörn!

Nedland, Hallbjörn, Abigail and Romulus turned together their head to the other side of the bridge. All three stayed thunderstruck as they saw Psody standing on the land, waving to them with both hands. The captain stood up and joined the small White Skaven, while Nedland helped the prior to unblock his calf.

Incredulous, the Norse stood before the man-rat, reached out and put a little slap on his hairy cheek.

- Hey!

- Yeah, you're real. But how did you do that?

- I'll tell you when the other two will be there. Everything okay? he asked over the shoulder of the mercenary.

Romulus and Nedland arrived near their comrades, as surprised as the Norse.

- So, what was the trick?

- Easy, Romulus: Skaven are cowards, they have a magic of cowardice. Grey Seers learn to teleport to save themselves if the risk is too great for them. And you, how are you?

Romulus pulled up his pants. The tissue had swallowed the biggest friction, and the boards had left some red marks on his skin.

- Nothing, it will pass. I'll apply ointment. In this country, an injury can rot quickly.

So saying, he reached into his bag to find his balm. The Halfling walked away and watched the horizon, muttering under his breath:

- Weird...

- What? asked Hallbjörn.

The scout turned to the mercenary.

- This is odd these animals attacked us.

- We did't have luck, that's all! They passed by here while we walked by.

- I'd be surprised if these scaly sparrows would have done it by accident!

- Maybe they just wanted to defend their territory? suggested Romulus.

Nedland shook his head.

- I've already faced these critters, prior. They build their nests in the mountains, in height. And for here, the closest mountains are far away!

He pointed to the horizon.

- Look at these peaks, there. Yeah, look, they're turning around. There they shack.

- However, three of them just tried to throw us into the void! the Norse growled.

- No, not them, whispered Psody. Someone else. I felt magic. Something controlled these animals.

- You think there's a spell caster somewhere around?

- It is possible, Sister Abigail.

- Enough talk, keep walking! decided the mercenary captain.

They continued their way, more motivated.

Fifteen minutes later, the five companions walked on a small cleared plateau. Some trees formed a natural arch, under which passed a small path. Nedland chuckled.

- Look, we're arrived!

Indeed, between the trees, stood the dark shape of a small temple. Built of grey stone, it measured about twenty feet high. Two snake-shaped statues stood on either side of a small staircase leading to an opening.

- I see nothing, Nedland noted.

- No one, indeed, added Ludviksson. Well, what now?

- We'll have to get the others waiting at the waterfall, explained Romulus.

- Go, I'll stay here, Psody said.

The three Human and the Halfling looked at him, surprised.

- Uh... is this reasonable?

- You said it, Hallbjörn. There is no one here. By cons, I should check if traces of magic still remain. For this, I must meditate and concentrate.

- Are you sure? What if something else happens? Sister Abigail asked.

- I will join you as quickly as possible. I wouldn't serve you anything by escorting you, but here, I can already begin to analyse the field.

The others looked at each other, and then agreed. They turned back, while Psody sat on the grass, sat crossed-legged, and closed his eyes.

He meditated, let his mind wandering about ten minutes. When at last he felt he was ready, he lifted his eyelids, stood up, looked around him and inveighed:

- I know you're there! I can feel your smell! Show yourself!

A rustle of leaves sound on his left. The huge fern branches parted, revealing a singular creature. This being stood on its two hind limbs, and seemed barely larger than the little ratman. Its general appearance was that of a lizard: a small dark blue scales covered skin, small black claws on its fingers and toes, a head with long reptilian snout split with two long nostrils and two big eyes that reached out of their orbit more than half. These two globes moved nervously in spurts, independently one of another, which made its gaze even more disturbing. The individual wore a necklace of copper metal, many bracelets around its wrists and ankles, a small tanned leather bag on its hip, and a snake-headed totem, carved from a piece of wood, stood on its back, attached between its shoulder blades. It took support on the handle of a trident, consisted of three coral peaks attached to a long handle.

For the first time in his life, the little ratman was facing a Lizardman. He felt a fear, deep inside himself, a fear he had never felt, something very distant, yet familiar. A sign of the collective memory of his people, or a warning of his god, he couldn't say. He focused on other small details: many scars appeared here and there on its scales, a long tail undulated under its loincloth, and on its head showed a sort of excess skin that seemed to be an extension of the skin of its face, a crest that briefly waved.

However, Psody decided not to let this sight destabilise him. He stared at the lizard-being. It didn't move an eyelash, yet, a deep voice echoed in the head of the White Skaven.

- You're far from your home, child of the Horned Rat. Who are you?

Surprised at first by this mode of communication, the little ratman replied aloud:

- I am Psody. And you're a cold-thing, an enemy to my people.

- To begin with, do not call me "cold-thing". The blood of Skinks flows in my veins.

- The blood of... what?

- Skinks. Know that among us, there are several different bloodlines, and Skinks are those who best hear the word of the gods, together with Slann mage priests, our leaders. I am a priest of the god Sotek. I am Ko'Liňon. What are you doing here?

- None of your business, cold-thing! spat the young Skaven White aggressively.

Instinctively, the little ratman found back the arrogant pride of Grey Seers, to better hide his fears. The Skink priest didn't react physically. However, Psody felt an unpleasant heat begin to emanate from him.

- You're about to enter a sacred territory for my people. So this is my business.

- I just want to see something. I peek in, then I go away.

- No. You're going to turn around and leave this place.

- But...

- Immediately.

The deep voice in his mind had become so authoritarian. Psody felt his heart pounding. It was a long time he had not been confronted with an individual who seemed openly hostile, after weeks past in the warm stillness of the Steiner family. He felt his warrior frustrations waking up, and his hair stand on end. He threw a contemptuous glance at the priest.

- Tan you!

And he firmly turned to the path, then walked with a decided step. The Skink hissed loudly, and planted his trident in a dazzling gesture in front of the little ratman who jumped back. The Skink voice still sounded.

- You're a Xa'Cota. Your only presence is a sacrilege.

- Get off me! I told you I just want to check something!

- There is no way I'm letting you go further, even to "check something"! You do not understand? You do not have the right to pass! Here is our territory, and only Sotek's children can go further in this direction!

The Skink withdrew his trident from earth in a jerk, and his eyes rolled, and yet twitched once independently one of another, in a rather disturbing way. Psody felt this person was probably older, but also kept some physical vigor and alertness. He insisted again.

- I just need to look at a fresco in! After, I go away, promise-swear! I know this is a temple! I am a priest, I respect the sacred!

- A Xa'Cota, respect something? Ridiculous. And you already know too much. I should make you disappear immediately. The more you know about what is behind me, the less you have chances to leave alive. Why do you insist so much?

Ko'Liňon opened his mouth, and his crest deployed in a wide range of scaly flesh, making appear his head much larger it really was. Psody didn't let it impress him. He started to stomp.

- Your kind did a lot of harm to a White Skaven who gave me an important task. However, to understand, I absolutely have to read the frescoes which are in Tixoco! Come on, it's not a crime!

- I already told you, this temple is forbidden. Especially for the small horned and too curious vermin!

The insult finished to anger the little ratman.

- My God clearly ordered me to go in this temple!

- And mine ordered me just as clearly to prevent you from entering in. Now I'm telling you for the last time friendly: turn around and leave this clearing. If you insist, I will be obligate to make you away by force.

The Skink seemed firmly determined. Psody clenched his fists in fury. He heaved a deep sigh and turned away. He took three steps to the camp, but turned abruptly, reaching out his hand. A green light flashed from his fingers. Ko'Liňon had sharply time to jump back to avoid the attack, narrowly. He still rolled one eye as a sign of surprise when he saw the twisted by rage face of the White Skaven. This spat:

- I crossed thousands of miles away, and I left behind me something too precious for me to deflate in front of an old and doddering lizard! I go into the temple, and if I have to kill you, then I will!

And he drew his short sword from his belt, looking determined to use it. The Skink priest wagged his crest, and took his trident with both hands.

- Very well, so be it.

Psody didn't let him time to say or do something more. He sprang forward with a loud cry, and downed his short sword to the Skink. The Lizardman dodged, and in the movement made the blade slid along the handle of his trident, and tapped with the end of the wooden rod the back of the small White Skaven. Psody squealed in pain, and rolled in the grass. He jumped up, turned and stretched three fingers forward again. Another green spark crackled to the Lizardman. This time, Ko'Liňon raised a hand, and the lightning vanished in an instant on his palm.

- The people of Lustria developed their own magic, too.

And he snapped his fingers. The young ratman flexed his legs, ready to respond to any frontal attack, when a violent clash on the back of his head unbalanced him. He barely had time to turn around, and saw a swarm of bats flying straight to him. Distraught, he shook his arms, making reels with his short sword. Some bats fell to the ground, but many left small lacerations on his clothes and in his fur. He yelped in pain, but realised he had forgotten his main opponent. He immediately dived to the side, just in time to avoid a trident stab.

Already, the bat swarm returned in his direction. Psody arose, muttered a few words in queekish and took his inspiration. He blew to the flying mammals, and in contact with the air, his breath turned into a powerful green cloud. The effect was immediate, bats dispersed, some crashed in the grass, poisoned.

- Nobody-nothing will stand in my way! Psody chuckled with an evil smile.

The Lizardman swung his trident, and planted it into the ground. Three energy waves whizzed toward the little ratman, digging three parallel grooves. They exploded a few steps from Psody. Large pieces of pebble bruised the whole body of the young White Skaven. A larger than other stone crushed his nose. He groaned as he felt the smell of blood infect his nose, and felt acute tears in his eyes. His vision was troubled, but he could still distinguish Ko'Liňon. The Skink still had his trident planted in the ground, and was raising both hands, as to invoke the powers of his god. A violent adrenaline burst him from the tip of his horns to the end of his tail.

- You pig! I'm going to kill you!

He rushed to the Lizardman, his sword ready to strike again. Ko'Liňon swung his pelvis, and his scaly tail lashed like a whip. Psody slammed his short sword and cut it off, sending it flying a few feet of the Lizardman. The latter didn't cry, expressed no pain or anger. Psody widened his eyes when he saw the cut appendix continued to shiver on the ground. Too taken aback by this sight, he didn't see the Lizardman delve into his bag. The priest pulled out a handful of seeds, that he threw to the feet of the small White Skaven. In a heartbeat, a bunch of soft and firm vines grew up and whipped the air towards Psody. The young ratman saw rat shoots wrap around his arms and legs at an incredible speed. In less than three seconds, he was completely immobilized, spread-eagled. Other natural hinderings grasped his neck.

Ko'Liňon withdrew his weapon out of the ground, and looked at his prisoner.

- Right. Now, do not move.

The Lizardman stepped back, drew his trident, and looked up at the sky. The young White Skaven felt his glands spreading a strong smell of panic. He pulled, pushed, fidgeted with all his energy, but the more he moved, the more the links tightened around his members. Streams of sweat slid around his large widened pink eyes. He didn't expect any mercy from the Skink priest.

Ko'Liňon glanced down at him, grasped firmly with both hands his trident and ran towards Psody. He gave a shrill whistle, and thrust his weapon forward.


	25. Grand Days of Brissuc

- Odd-strange...

Vellux had just heard Klur's story while chewing a piece of hard and nervous meat. The names of Gotrek and Felix were not unknown to him. A few seasons ago, he had received a message on a man-thing skin parchment confirming that Grey Seer Thanquol, special agent of the Council of Thirteen, offered a large reward for the one who would bring him the terrible duo. At last, this offer was still valid.

It was best to go there and investigate. By giving a few warpstone chips by here and there, he could quickly learn in what places the pair had been sighted. Then, with a good team of sharp nosed Gutter Runners, it would be easy; he would send the Eshin spy the passing areas of the duo, they would spot for him the corners where the Skaven smell float, and he would check himself these places and tap the smell of his young pupil, he would have no trouble to recognise it.

Moreover, the Eshin had taught him something even more interesting: castle Gottliebschloss was now without a leader, and its army reduced. It was the best time to take it. Vodaj's troops would guarantee him victory. And about the few shabby weird-Skaven met by the anthracite Skaven, from what he had said, and he didn't seem to have had the nerve to lie to him, there was no reason to worry, the Sons of the Horned Rat would crush them like so many cockroaches.

The plan was perfect, flawless, simple and probably effective. Not surprising for a plan devised by a Grey Seer as smart as him. This improved his mood, and he decided to share it with Klur. After all, he would need the services of Clan Eshin, so make a good impression.

- Right, you did what I wanted. I'll let you live-live for the moment. Remember that your life depends on your silence.

- I won't forget, most excellent personification of mercy!

- Go tell your master to be here, and make yourself at breeders district. I give you three hours with a female.

- Thank you, thank you, o immeasurable carrier of the word of the Horned Rat!

- Come on, get out of here!

Vellux didn't need to say it twice, the coal-black Skaven rushed out without asking for his.

Left alone, the Grey Seer thought again about the words of the man-thing chief reported by the Gutter Runner, and the testimony of Magnus, the weird-thing spy, returned to him.

_So... Psody was at Gottliebschloss. Jourg of Clan Moulder was defeated on the day of his arrival, and the men-things have not traced another army. An ordinary Skaven wouldn't have made it, but Psody is a chosen one of the Horned Rat. He is enough clever-smart to mess up. Men-things men then could fire them. What after?_

He thought, thought to provoke a headache, and ideas chained.

_The men-things would never have left him alive, yet they did when they captured him... wait a moment! They have not captured him. _He_ decided to surrender! And then he went away with the two Skaven killers wanted by Thanquol. They would have killed him on the spot, why they didn't?_

His eyes opened wide when he realised:

_Because he decided to betray us! He would never have done all this, he never would have surrendered any men-things! He sought Gotrek and Felix, he found them, he took care of Jourg, then went with them! He plots against our people by siding on their side!_

Several bloody feelings burst in the brain of the Grey Seer. His student had the nerve to stand up against him, it was something very serious. But his plot with men-things was worse. What could he do with the inferior races?

_Learn their secrets to turn against them? ... No, he would have warned me for my help! He will act_ against me_!_

At this thought, anger was stronger. He could not help to bark:

- Why you little unfaithful junk!

- Oh, Grey Seer! exclaimed in a tone of mock hurt Master Assassin Tweezil, standing on the threshold of the door of the laboratory.

Vellux, who was standing back to the door, jumped with a startled cry, and glared at the black Skaven.

- Tweezil! Do it again, and I fry you on the spot!

- Please forgive-excuse me, whispered the Eshin kneeling.

_The next time it's my blade in your neck that will make you blench!_ thought the Master Assassin.

- Enter-enter, don't stay there. Close the door!

Tweezil obeyed. Grey Seer sat in his chair, and explained:

- That night, the Horned Rat spoke to me. You know what that means?

- He expects us to do something to honour him?

- Indeed not! You idiot-moron! That means he only trusts me! I'm a chosen one, I'm the only one able to hear him and understand him!

The black Skaven bowed his head and pretended servitude. In truth, his blood boiled with rage, he had to make a significant effort to restrain himself to jump on the White Skaven and gut him right here right now.

- Luckily, I'm here to keep the balance in Brissuc! Vellux continued. Anyway, you can't understand. I forgive you.

- Thank you very much, o inextinguishable light of our colony, you're too merciful.

- I know, that's why I'm a chosen one. Master Assassin, I'll need your best elements. I need twelve-twelve of your best Gutter Runners. I have to take them with me for a very important secret mission.

- Right, o mighty Grey Seer.

The Master Assassin knew some questions must never be asked, so he only wondered who would be the twelve selected. Like to thank, Vellux told him:

- I have to go to Sub-Altdorf for some time, in order to get the key to our victory-victory. Your spies will help me. Attention! If I do not return, the other Clan leaders were ordered to remove all the Eshin of Brissuc they can. This will prevent your rats bad temptations. It would be a shame to embarrass you, one of my best agents!

- What an extraordinary intelligence! What a brilliant plan! I couldn't have found better, my dear Master!

- No, you couldn't have found better, because I'm the master here! Go and bring me twelve murderers, the ones who are both the most efficient and the most reliable. Then you go to the breeders district, and you can spend the rest of the day with the breeder you want.

- Oh, hundred, thousand, ten thousand times thank you, miraculous soul of Brissuc!

- And don't worry, you will understand everything when I return.

The Eshin rose, bowed again and left the laboratory.

It was a pretty well coming day for Diassyon Cof lan Skryre. In recent weeks, he had felt an energy boost in his own ideas. He could remember Moly Clan Pestilens without falling back into apathy, and his relationship with Chitik was further improved. So he had decided to make a gift to the Black Skaven. Something that might increase the chances of being victorious from a fight. He had spent the last three days to craft a heavy war hammer, too large and too heavy to be held with one hand. He was particularly proud of the head of the weapon, a solid block of wrought iron. It took him several hours to find the right piece, trim it, fit it, and finally attach securely enough to a wooden handle. The choice of the material was also decisive. He had applied to get it from a small tree in his sanctuary area, above the colony.

And now, after all those hours, he would make a gift to his beloved brother. A present, the first of his life. It was quite strange to him. He imagined the surprised grimace the big Stormvermin would do, seeing this weapon of exceptional quality. He carried it on his back, carefully wrapped in a bag, and walked at a brisk pace.

_I hope he'll crush-grind hundreds of skulls with! Who knows? Perhaps his Fangleader's?_

Over time, it was increasingly difficult to Chitik to cope with vanity and bad faith of Semik, commander of the Black Skaven. Fortunately, he had listened to the concerns of the young Warlock Engineer, and had tried to show less angry violence.

He didn't want to go to the Stormvermin district; outside Grey Seer Vellux, no Skaven who was not carrying the legacy of the Mighty of the Horned Rat in his veins was allowed – note, thinking about it, they were not more aggressive than the others. Generally, each Clan fiercely prevented foreigners from entering their domain without good reason.

The brown Skaven knew where to look for. When he wasn't sleeping on his mattress or engaged in a battle, the big Black Skaven used to watch the slaves or train the young recruits. He wanted to start with the arena. A few minutes later, he arrived in the area where the Clanrats were trained. It was a huge circular room, the centre of which the Skaven had dug several large round pits. Noise was emanating from the nearest. The brown Skaven, curious, came and bent his head over the fence.

In the pit stood a huge bipedal creature. A huge naked rat-ogre, its body partially covered with brown fur on its back, arms, head and legs, remained motionless, slowly shaking its head from front to back. Before it, a Clan Moulder Packmaster, a Skaven in beige coat with black stripes, cracked his whip and barked orders. The big beast jumped and stepped back, more afraid that really upset. Its musk glands vaporised the smell of fear.

Diassyon didn't know much about the customs and traditions of Clan Moulder. He found himself thinking about his deceased brother Skahl, the first victim of Karkadourian's cursed females. Had he lived longer, he would probably have been an exceptional Packmaster. He stood a few moments to look at what was happening. He knew that the Moulder in the pit was called Zowie, and had the reputation of being good. And what he was doing in the pit was pretty impressive.

Normally, nobody took the risk of deliberately upset a rat-ogre. These monsters were stupid, but quick to get easily angry, and reduce to mush everything that fell under their huge paws. Being a good Packmaster meant to have certain magnetism on animals, or beings with primitive intelligence. For Zowie, it was more than that. His green eyes emitted a particularly unsettling look. Diassyon understood that the Moulder had already fought the rat-ogre in a mind duel, and the power of his gaze had submitted the creature. And the rat-ogre, instead of attacking its tormentor, squealed backwards.

The Skryre had a small admiring pout. Zowie was at the height of his reputation, and was often confided the training of new rat-ogres. Looking a little better the creature, he had a strange feeling, as if this rat-ogre vaguely remembered him something. Then he remembered, and his heart leapt in his chest. He just recognised the pattern of the remaining coat on the muzzle of the rat-ogre. The bright spot on its left eye, the dark on its right one, it could be no one but...

_Well, well... It is Tôrkh!_

He had a wicked smile. Indeed, it was the Skaven of Clan Moulder who had been his companion in misfortune in the cage of the weird-thing sorcerer Karkadourian, who had bee, so insisting to devour the corpse of his brother Moly. Apparently he didn't gave satisfaction to the Master Mutator Skilit, one way or another, and the chief of Clan Moulder of the colony had found him another way to be helpful.

He bent his head over the edge of the pit, and quipped:

- So, you look good now, big guy!

Then he burst into a loud laugh. The rat-ogre looked up at him, an expression combining supreme surprise with abysmal stupidity spread across his facies. Zowie cracked his whip more viciously.

- Go away! You're distracting-confusing it!

The Warlock Engineer didn't want to get into trouble with the Mutators. He obeyed and disappeared.

Klur of Clan Eshin adjusted his belt, put his cape leaving gently slide over the dirty cloth bandage he had wrapped around his injured shoulder, and buckled the pin that held it. He casted a stained by condescending pity look at the huge breeder which was snoring on the straw, full length slumped, unconscious of the gift the Gutter Runner just offered it.

_I hope it will lay a slew of small assassins!_

He quickly returned to the dark well, which was the domain of the members of Clan Eshin. He went down along the steep wall, and came to the central square of the district. He saw a dozen of his fellows Clan gathered in a corner, preparing their stuff. He recognised some of the most talented Gutter Runners of Brissuc. One of them looked up and hailed the coal-black Skaven.

- Hey, Klur! The Master Assassin wants to talk to you!

- He wants to meet you in the copper tunnels room.

The "copper tunnels room" was the crossroads where the Eshin had met his five brothers for the first time, long ago. Klur felt a slight pressure pinching his heart.

- What does he want?

- Dunno. Hurry, he's not in a good mood.

It took only a few minutes Skaven anthracite to go to the crossroads. He saw no one, but knew that his chief of Clan was not far.

- Ahoy? Master Tweezil?

No reply. This didn't surprise him much, Master Assassin Tweezil loved to laugh at his interlocutors playing with their nerves. He grumbled, cursing the sense of humour of the Eshin Clawleader.

- Nightleader Tweezil? Are you there?

He scanned the tunnels one after another, but detected no presence. Suddenly, the the silky voice of his master whispered:

- I taught you patience, Klur. Have you forgotten?

- Me? Uh... no, Nightleader.

- Good.

Klur turned a jump. Tweezil's voice had just whispered in his ear. The black Skaven stood right in front of him.

- You should have seen me coming, Klur. You lose-lose efficiency.

- I... Nightleader Tweezil, I do my best.

- Yeah... I'll make sure. I'm going to give you the responsibility of Night Runners. They need a good Gutter Runner to train them.

- Ah... Good. But...

The coal-black Skaven was surprised. Why wouldn't be part of the twelve Skaven accompanying Vellux?

- I saw Gutter Runners bracing themselves to do something.

- The Grey Seer needed twelve of my best Skaven. It bothers-bores me, but I have to obey him.

- He... he told you why?

- This is a secret mission, Klur! You don't have to know anything about it!

Klur felt his forehead wrinkling in perplexity. Had Vellux revealed to Tweezil that the little White Skaven was still alive? He wouldn't try to compromise himself by asking this question. Moreover, something else annoyed him.

- Why not send me there, Master? I am also able to accomplish this mission! My injury does not hamper me! So what?

The question plunged the Master Assassin into a violent rage. In a tail sweep, he overthrew the coal-black Skaven, sat on him, and thrust his finger in the hole dug by the she-thing musket. Klur moaned in pain. Tweezil barked:

- Because I am your master, and I want to stay your master, Klur! I don't know what you're scheming with Vellux, but I don't like it at all! You're an Eshin, and I want you near me to be sure-sure you're not preparing a dirty trick in my back! So, here's a good advice: do soft tab, or life will become so bad for you!

Tweezil withdrew his finger with a jerk, and pulled away with a bound. He climbed in a heartbeat in one of the largest pipe and disappeared. When Klur stood, his hand on his reopened wound, he screamed with rage when he saw that he trembled in every limb, both anger and fear.

Chitik the Stormvermin put his wooden mallet against the rock wall, and stretched, cracking his bones throughout his spine. Then he helped the small Black Skaven to get up.

- That's enough for today. You have all made progress. I'll tell it to Fangleader Semik.

There were some surprised and happy murmurs. Chitik had long thought about what Diassyon told him, relative to his bad temper, and had remembered the advice of Plague Deacon Soum: use _kindness_. With this invisible but easily transferable commodity, the two Skaven were closer to Moly. And if the other Skaven were not as close as his blood brothers, he had noticed that making use of this "kindness" on them could give very good results very quickly. In just a few days, the Skaven had become more motivated, more efficient and more obedient. Recently, a few Stormvermin among younger had even preferred to talk to him rather than to Fangleader Semik to discuss about problems.

The training was completed, the Clanrats dispersed. Left alone, Chitik gave a little satisfied sigh and returned to the Stormvermin sector. He walked away from the arena at a quiet pace. He saw Klur, sat on a rock, a few yards away. The coal-black Skaven seemed to be pretty worried, and gently rubbed his injured shoulder. Chitik smirked. It might be a good opportunity to make a little better contact with the Eshin, with kindness.

- Hey, brother?

The anthracite Skaven looked up, and his facies frowned.

- Don't call me so, headless!

- All right, all right... You look worried.

- Mind your own business!

The big Black Skaven insisted.

- Really! I feel that you're not as usual!

- What are you talking about?

Chitik scratched his head.

- Well ... you're not very well, these days. Perhaps you want a hand?

- I don't need anybody! Barked the Gutter Runner.

- What's wrong with you, brother?

- Nothing, I say! Get off me!

- You're scared...

- Me? Fear? Never! replied the coal-black Skaven, laughing.

Chitik didn't let go.

- You got problems?

- I told you to get off me, you big sausage!

- You failed with your clan?

These words sparked an explosion of rage in the Eshin. He jumped up and unleashed his wrath.

- Never, do you hear me? NEVER! I never failed to anybody! Neither my master nor Vellux or the Horned Rat! Even in the putrid swamp, I swear Psody…

Suddenly, the Eshin realised what he had said, and stood silent. Chitik was startled by hearing the name of his favourite brother out of the mouth of the coal-black Skaven. This allusion to the swamp... was he talking about the tragic end of the little White Skaven?

- So what, Psody?

- I... well... I haven't been able to save him from weird-things, but I... I personally revenged him!

Chitik understood something was wrong. Until this last sentence, Klur had always spoken to him without any hesitation.

- Are you sure?

- So... so I tell you, you skull sparrow!

The Eshin felt anxiety rising in him. This detail didn't escape Chitik. Klur had no musk glands to emit olfactory emotions, but the Stormvermin had learned to read the fear in other ways: the quickening breath, the panicked eye, the trembling hand, even slightly… Klur was really scared. The Black Skaven was now sure: Diassyon was right, and Klur had things to say. He wanted answers. He slowly raised his mallet.

- You're lying... and you're hiding something to me!

Klur eventually yielded.

- You're too stupid-stupid to understand the issues, Chitik!

- Did you hurt Psody?

- I had to, for the glory of the Horned...

- I DON'T LIKE YOU!

Chitik slammed his hammer at a phenomenal speed for a person of his size, but Klur dodged the wooden head narrowly. He jumped back, and in the movement, sent one of his daggers right to the big Black Skaven. He dodged the blade, which touched his arm just above the elbow and pulled a tuft of hair.

Chitik stroke again. The earth broke under the wooden head. Klur dodged every blow, and watched the smallest opening. After a long minute, during which he continued to jump all over the place, he perceived a change in breathing in his big brother. Once again, Chitik's weakened lungs would harm him.

_And this time will be the last-last one!_

Klur ran to the Stormvermin, and jumped as high as he could. He leaned on Chitik's shoulders, passed over his head and turned in the same movement. Chitik felt a hard and icy touch around his neck. The coal-black Skaven was tightening his throat with his leaded iron wire, ideal tool for strangulation. By reflex, he put his hands under his chin to try to give slack to the outlet.

- You... you... lied.

- It is characteristic of our race, poor fool! We are Skaven! And I'm a future Sorcerer! So is the way of Clan Eshin! You're going to die, and the other degenerate Skryre will follow you soon!

Klur squeezed harder. The vision of the Black Skaven was troubled.

_I don't want to die!_

He focused, tried to remain conscious. His temples were throbbing so hard he hardly heard what the Eshin said.

- You should have seen his face when he saw that it was me who had just shove a knife in his back. It was so exciting! Almost as enjoyable as now! He looked so surprised! Because he believed, too, to all this nonsense-nonsense about blood ties! I cheated him more easily than I expected!

- Murderer...

- Yep! Naivety is a fatal error-error for the Sons of the Horned Rat!

The Stormvermin drew on his rlast esources to escape the deadly grip of his assailant. He raised his left hand and felt something hairy between his fingers. By desperate reflex, he pulled this "something" in his mouth and clenched as hard as he could his jaws. Klur uttered a terrible screech, and loosened his grip before switching back. Chitik breathed deeply, and stood up. He then felt the flavour of blood acidifying his taste buds. The anthracite Skaven was curled on himself, and was holding his left forearm, whining. Chitik saw a little bloody mass on the floor, and then suddenly realised that his teeth had cut Klur's wrist.

Now without his left hand, the Eshin begged his older brother with a gaze, but it was too late for him to change his mind. Chitik jumped on Klur, the latter tried to avoid the movement with a roll. The Black Skaven swept the air with his paws, and grabbed something, the ringed tail of the assassin. He grabbed more firmly between his claws.

- Get off me! Klur squeaked.

The Black Skaven didn't listen. He made a sweeping movement with the arms, and began to spin the coal-black Skaven above his head. He squealed in panic as he spun more quickly. Chitik and took the momentum for a good twenty seconds, then let him go. Klur was rushed to a wall, against which he crashed. The Stormvermin didn't give him time to recover. He grabbed him by the scruff of his neck with both hands and slammed him on the wall. Then he shook him, shouting with all his might:

- WHY DID YOU THIS TO OUR BROTHER?

Klur knew he was doomed. The Black Skaven would never let him live, and he couldn't defend himself. He thought a moment to confirm his suspicions and tell him the truth, he had missed his strike, and Psody was still alive, but it would have been the worst betrayal to his clan. In any case, he couldn't go far with just one hand, and Clan Eshin would get rid of him quickly. He remembered one of the lessons of Master Assassin Tweezil.

_An assassin who's caught may feel great shame-shame. But the worst shame is to reveal to the enemy the name of the person who hired him. A real Eshin rather die than talk!_

So he would be a real Eshin to the end, and die quickly. He concentrated all the hatred that was left in his heart, and hissed:

- Because he was an idiot, unable to satisfy the Horned Rat! I would have been a better Grey Seer! I should have had his white fur and horns! I would have filled the colony with glory, instead of wasting-wasting my powers in stupid projects! I have done a great service to Brissuc by pushing his head into the water until he drowned!

The Skaven Black slid his fingers on Klur's head, his palms flat on his temples. With a bestial roar, he clenched his hands to join them. The Eshin felt his skull box cracking, fissuring in places. He uttered a cry of pain so strong and sharp that it deafened the Stormvermin. However, he didn't release his grip, and redoubled his efforts when he saw the face of his brother deforming under pressure.

The coal-black Skaven had the satisfaction of choosing his own death, one last thought appropriate, but at the last moment, he heard the final warning that he had from his brother Moly, an eternity ago. Then there was a disgusting crackling and mashed pulp noise.

Chitik dropped the now lifeless body of the Gutter Runner and vigorously waved his hands to get rid of bone fragments and bits of brains on his fingers. That's when he felt the presence of someone else. He turned and saw Diassyon.

- Oh... you... he...

- Say no more. I got it.

The brown Skaven advanced to Klur"s corpse. Then he removed his leather apron, and urinated on the anthracite Skaven, without saying a word. Chitik watched him, dumbfounded.

- But... Clan Eshin will believe it's you!

- Better than if it's your scent.

- You're taking risks!

- I'm ready to take risks. I know better than you defend me against these cowards-cowards!

Chitik was about to protest, but stopped himself at the last moment. He was forced to admit, if any enemy attacking him by front didn't frighten him, he was not very good at anticipating backstabs, unlike his brother of Clan Skryre.

Once his business completed, Diassyon recovered the large bag of coarse cloth he had left behind him, and handed it with both hands towards the Stormvermin.

- Here!

Chitik remained so surprised, seeing the carved hammer. Then a huge smile stretched his lips. The Warlock Engineer smiled back.

- Reduce to dust all your enemies.

- You won't be disappointed, brother!

The Horned Rat temple bell rang. The two blood brothers simultaneously turned heir head in the direction of the Temple of the Horned Rat.

Usually, the temple bell rang regularly to announce each hour of the day. But this time it was different. Instead of just typing a few accurate shots on the inlaid warpstone bronze, the ringer hammered twice faster than usual, and without stopping. All the Skaven citizens of Brissuc knew what it meant: an immediate convening of everyone at the temple.

The Skaven therefore came to the house of the Horned Rat, by groups more and more numerous. Some wondered aloud what was happening, but no one could give any answer. They became more nervous, and like all emotions, the nervousness was reflected in the scent of irritating musk.

Finally, the last entered, the doors closed and there was silence in the nave. With this tocsin, Grey Seer Vellux had gathered in the prayer room all Skaven adults of colony Brissuc, which made a big thousand men rats. All were anxiously awaiting the words of their leader. He appeared on the scene, and slowly descended the stairs side. He stopped in front of the first row, and began his speech.

- Sons of the Horned Rat, I have you all here to talk about the decisions I have made in the name of our God. Indeed, the Horned Rat gives us the opportunity to expand our colony and crush all his enemies.

There were a few murmurs, which quickly fell silent. The Grey Seer didn't seem willing to allow joy overflows. Vellux continued, passing between ratmen.

- I know, our last campaign against man-thing wizard Aescos Karkadourian was a disaster. But things changed. We recently had a lot of young Skaven accepted-recognised as adults, with rights and duties. And we will unite to the colony of Treecil to take advantage of their resources.

Few undecided whispers again. If this idea of union with the neighbour Skaven Warlord was not so surprising, it remains unusual, and some residents of Brissuc feared lose a lot, without consider that the Grey Seer could very well turn the situation to their advantage. The latter explained:

- I will soon conduct the main part of our Clanrats to the surface. Men-things are hiding in a castle, a few days walk from here. They have been greatly weakened by the Skavens of Jourg of Clan Moulder, and had not time to rebuild their forces. Their leader was recently killed by the Clan Eshin. This is the perfect time to finish them. Troops of Vodaj of Clan Skryre will help-help us.

Vellux was now in the middle of the crowd. The only sound audible was his footsteps on clay.

- I want to be sure you'll all be focused on winning and nothing else. So will I get straight some things before expose you my plan.

He paused between a Moulder and an Eshin. The assassin snapped his teeth.

- In recent days, there is a rumour circulating in Brissuc, according the fact Grey Seer Psody didn't die as Klur of Clan Eshin told us. This rumour revolves around at least two of you.

Diassyon swallowed. Despite all precautions, the secret he shared with Chitik seemed to have transpired. The Grey Seer stopped right next to Chitik. This made an incredible effort to stand still, although his neighbours felt the smell of panic emanating from his glands. Vellux spoke more gently without stopping staring at the Stormvermin.

- It is true that his death has saddened us all. He was a Skaven White, a chosen one of the Horned Rat, whose loss has affected the colony more than anyone else. And I myself recently had a doubt. That's why, when I learned that an isolated Grey Seer was mop with men-things, I asked Klur to go check.

Grey Seer resumed his walk, and headed to Diassyon. The brown Skaven remained stoic, even if unpleasant heat warmed his hair gradually as Vellux approached. The White Skaven turned slowly around the Warlock Engineer while explaining:

- It turned out that Grey Seer captive of men-things was not Psody. Klur told me before… his unfortunate accident.

Diassyon felt every hair on his fur wetting in a cold sweat.

_He already knows? News travel too fast here!_

- And I confirm, the Horned Rat told me repeatedly that our small beloved White Skaven was dead. Dead! _Dead!_ I felt in the Warp the explosion of energy that burst as the Horned Rat came collected his soul.

Vellux was facing the Skryre. He put his index finger on his chest.

- So, there is nothing more to hope, Diassyon! Put yourself this right in your head, and make it so, all of you! Psody is history! A day will come when one of our breeders calve another White Skaven. But in the meantime, I'm the only Grey Seer of Brissuc, and the only one who the Horned Rat speaks to! We must forget Psody, and to help you, I tell you that every Skaven who will pronounce his name in my presence immediately suffer the curse of our god!

Not any Skaven dared move a hair. The Grey Seer returned to the foot of the stage.

- Now here's what we'll do. The next night, I go with the twelve best assassins of Clan Eshin to Altdorf, the men-things capital city. I have something to pick up for our victory. A regiment of Clanrats will wait for me. Meanwhile, under the authority of Deacon Soum, you will go to the terrier of Treecil. There, Vodaj of Clan Skryre will lead you to the castle that men-things call "Gottliebschloss." I will join you with my escort for the battle. Together we will succeed where Jourg of Clan Moulder failed!

In the midst of the crowd, some Moulder, including Master Mutator Skilit, grumbled at the mention of this shame. The Grey Seer climbed onto the platform by the side stairs, and harangued the audience once more.

- You do understand! Besides the slaves who make the colony engines turn, breeders and ratwives turn, everyone will participate in the battle! We will leave no chance for men-things! We will go Gottliebschloss masters. But there is something else.

Murmurs arose over the Skaven crowd. Grey Seer continued:

- I learned that our enemy Aescos Karkadourian also wanted the castle. But if we come before him, we will be in a strong position! Sons of the Horned Rat, we will destroy-destroy both men-things and weird-things!

He said it with enthusiasm, raising his arms. This time, the Skaven applauded.

- The victory is finally within reach, superior people! Tomorrow Gottliebschloss, but what about the day after tomorrow? A bigger city!

- Hooray! replied the audience.

- A dwarf-things fortress!

- Bravo!

Vellux feasted. The more his Skaven approved him, the more his power increased. The more his power grew, and his Skaven approved it. The loop was just so complete. He decided to do it one more time:

- Glory to the Horned Rat!

- GLORY TO THE HORNED RAT!

- Glory to the Skaven people!

- GLORY TO THE SKAVEN PEOPLE!

- Death to inferior races!

- DEATH TO INFERIOR RACES!

- Glory to the Horned Rat!

- GLORY TO THE HORNED RAT! GLORY TO THE HORNED RAT!

The Grey Seer was on the middle of the stage, his arms outstretched, his eyes exalted, a huge smile on his lips. Bursting with vitality, he broke into an insane laugh.

**Author's Note: I started to put on FanFiction the story of Psody and his brothers January 14, 2013. Since then it has collected today more than 2700 views. I really want to thank you all for your faithfulness and interest.**

**Recently, I had an idea: I can write, but I can't draw. If there are among you some who are inspired enough to produce an image or more, I would be very pleased to receive them.**

**I prefer to be honest: I cann't hold a contest with prizes, or even guarantee to publish your images on a website. Those who feel motivated to send me a drawing would get nothing but my consideration. However, if I can publish this story on a website that I would have done, or in an official way, I will forward your proposals, I could even to consider the small details that I would like on an illustration. So you would bring your own stone to this small building, and I'd love to see how the readers "see" these characters.**

**I propose something more: I happened to write a few scenes that I did not put in the final version of the story, kind of "deleted scenes". For example, the moment when Vellux reprimands severely Chitik and cuts his ear, or the scene where Felix introduces Heike to Gotrek. Maybe you have such images, ideas that would take place "off stage", or perhaps you saw the characters from the Enfant Terrible outside the story. If someone sends me a picture like this, I promise to write a short story of some pages long around the image, and publish it on FanFiction. I'll try to balance the number of pages by four to fiveby short story, so as not to favour some and devalue others.**

**Interested drawers are invited to contact me by private message, so I send them my email address.**

**Thank you for your attention and encouragement. Glory to the Horned Rat!**


	26. The Grand Secret

Psody slowly opened his eyes, the features of his face slowly relaxed. He saw the handle of Ko'Liňon's trident front of him, vertically. The weapon was planted in the ground at less than a foot from him. He was very embarrassed to feel a strong smell of urine, the emotion had been too strong. He tried to move, bit couldn't. Lianas pressed him so hard that he couldn't feet his own hands or feet. He was completely in thank you for the Man-Lizard. Moreover, he could not count on the help of his fellow travelers. They were probably too far.

Why _did I send the others away? I wanted to fight like the fairytales heroes, one by one, with fair play... that's the way it'll end!_

The Skink priest drew a sharp blow on the handle of his weapon to remove it from the soil. Then he looked again the little ratman, and said slowly:

- You're young, impetuous, and you don't lack audacity, even if it will bring you nothing but trouble. I consent to grant you one last chance, young Skaven. If I release my grip, if I let you go, you'll have to leave the country as soon as possible, and never return. So, what do you decide?

Psody had increasingly difficult to breathe, but his anger didn't diminish therefore, however.

_I'll pretend to accept his deal, and as soon as he backs me, I..._

- Do not even think about it, then cut the voice of the priest.

Psody blinked, frightened to see how far the power of his opponent was. Desperate, he grumbled:

- May the Horned Rat... eat your dim-witted soul!

- I see. I expected you to say something else. Sincerely.

- I'll go... in this temple... and discover… its secrets!

- You're using your last breaths. You lost, and you know it.

- You won't... never stop me, you naughty stink!

Like when he engaged the combat, Ko'Liňon quivered his collarette.

- You let me no alternative.

He brandished his trident in one hand above his head, ready to swing it down on the little ratman. The latter felt his heart about to explode in panic. In a flash, a thousand more scary and tragic as each other images went through his mind: the fork stuck in his stomach, his body eaten by cold-things, hordes of Skaven walking on Altdorf, Felix looking at him with a terrible disappointment in his eyes. As he saw Heike crying all the tears of his body, he felt a great burst of energy ignite each of his fibres.

- NO!

Ko'Liňon suspended his gesture, and stood still, surprised, during one second. And this second was enough to reverse the course of events. Psody curled up and stretched his arms and legs with all his might. In the same way he destroyed the clearing of the Dryad, months before, he invoked a powerful energy that immediately created a green energy vortex which disintegrated in a heartbeat all the lianas holding him. The impact pushed violently the Skink priest who was thrown back.

Psody fell to his knees and took a full gulp of air greedily, as he wanted to fill his lungs in one breath. He shook his head, and stood up painfully. A few steps away, Ko'Liňon leaned on the handle of his weapon to stabilise himself. The young White Skaven dashed to his opponent. The Lizardman brandished his trident to try to stop him in his rush. Psody had the reflex to jump on the side, with the fuliginous Skaven way. He grabbed the handle of the spear in turn in both hands, and pulled with all his strength.

Both fighters remained a few seconds to force, each on his side. The outcome of this struggle was uncertain: the little ratman was not very strong, and the old Skink had lost his former vigour. Psody thought at full speed. He shouldn't leave any opening. Suddenly, he had an idea.

With a start, he lowered his head and tried to plant his horns into the chest of the Lizardman. When he stood up, he understood his trick had succeeded. The Skink had dropped his weapon and reflexively jumped back, narrowly avoiding his horns. But he was now disarmed. Psody reacted immediately, he wouldn't commit the same mistake as the Lizardman. Without any hesitation, he sprang forward and plunged the trident with all his might in the scaly chest of the priest, with a terrible cry.

Ko'Liňon opened his mouth, and for the first time, Psody heard his natural voice. Rather, he heard a kind of croaking very low and very loud. His big round narrowed eyes rolled in every direction, and he fell on the grass. The young White Skaven put his foot on the chest of the priest, and took off the trident with a jerk. A yellowish blood spurted with a rolling boil from the three holes bursting the skin of the Skink.

Psody remained so, taking his breath, dazed, gazing Ko'Liňon. Suddenly he realised what he had done, and there was no way back. He hurriedly released the trident, and looked at his hands. His knuckles were compressed so he had tightened the weapon, and the fluff that covered his fingers was stained with yellow spots. He knelt beside the priest. The breath of the Skink was already weak, and the blood profusely flowed from his mouth.

- What have I done?! he asked, devastated.

- All is well, my friend, sounded in his mind the voice of the Lizardman.

- I... I'm... sorry!

- You really don't have to. It was written. You wanted at all costs to enter the temple to discover its secrets. My duty was to protect it, risking my life. I was about to kill you, and you defended yourself. I finally fought someone stronger than me, that's all. We did what we had to. The gods gave us instructions to follow.

- I... I didn't do it only for the Horned Rat.

- Your beliefs must be very strong, however, since they permit you to beat me, while I faced more seasoned than you. And I don't think I so lost my power with age.

Psody didn't answer, he just nodded affirmatively, slowly.

- Tell me, Ko'Liňon said, you got me because at the last time, you used a much mightier power, and I let myself be surprised. This is not warpstone. Your mind is too alert. So what? Where have you drawn that mental strength from?

- From… Love.

The White Skaven saw the shadow of a smile passing over Ko'Liňon's facies.

- A strange thing. The Skinks are cold-blooded, so they don't feel emotions, but they know what it is. I thought Skaven were completely devoid of this one?

- I'm not an ordinary Skaven. I am a chosen one of the Horned Rat... but above all, I am Psody, and I want to make my kind progress by wisdom. And most importantly... I met... a wonderful girl. It is to be at peace with myself, and to live happily with her... I do all of it.

Ko'Liňon didn't answer immediately, but a last respectful spark shone deep into his split-warded eyes.

- In this case, she's very lucky. I feel it now, this is not Chaos that makes you strong, unlike the other Skaven. I believe that, ultimately, your access to the temple won't be a vile desecration.

- I did not want to desecrate! I... I regret!

- What should be is now. I should have paid more attention. I can't blame anybody but myself. Come on, you've won, you must respect the tradition.

Psody stood up, and looked at Ko'Liňon. He wouldn't live very long, but enough for what the Skaven had to do. He spread the skirts of his coat, and lifted his shirt to his bellybutton. But while his other hand downed to his crotch, it stopped halfway. He grimaced, shook his head and straightened his clothing. Then he picked up his short sword lying on the floor. He didn't know if the Skinks had the heart to the same location as his own, so he didn't take the risk to goof. He firmly passed his blade through the throat of the Lizardman. A yellow and thick blood spurted from the gaping wound, while a fat hissing sounded, such as the explosion of a wetlands gas pocket. Ko'Liňon died in a few seconds, his scaly face stiffened into an expression of ecstatic relief.

Psody wiped the shiny metal of his weapon, put it away, and stretched out his arms to the sky. He remembered brother Pieter and his tribute to Günter the day before, and spoke in a loud voice in his native language.

- Oh, Horned Rat, god of Skaven, hear my prayer! I, Psody, I just challenge and confront this priest of the god Sotek. Ko'Liňon was a strong and worthy warrior. He fought in honouring his kind! I beg you, Horned Rat! In your infinite wisdom, although this god is your worst enemy, respect the brave ones and ask the god of this valiant Skink to receive his noble soul to him, because he deserves it. Hear my prayer, and be thanked.

Then he knelt down and prayed near the body of Ko'Liňon. A few tears shyly slipped on his fluffy cheeks.

A few steps away, Hallbjörn and Abigail were motionless. Stood behind Romulus and Nedland, they had heard the distant tumult of the mages battle. Distraught, they had rushed to the rescue, and had witnessed the conclusion of this meeting.

- Captain, you saw what I saw?

- I didn't understand a word, but the rest seemed very clear. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.

- I feel that our friend has just one more step.

- Yep. But in which direction?

The two friends joined Psody. The latter got up as they approached.

- Oh, you're back...

- So this is a Lizardman, Hallbjörn muttered, as he crouched near the body of the priest.

- This is a Skink, specified the little ratman. I had to kill him, to pass. I told him I just wanted to stay a few hours to study the bas-reliefs, but he didn't want to listen anything. I had to choose between death for me or for him.

Abigail gave him a reproachful glance.

- Why did you approach the temple without us? We could have confront him together!

- In fact, I drove you away to fight him alone.

Upon hearing this statement, Hallbjörn jumped up.

- Gosh! Congratulations for your confidence! Perhaps you think I've never faced a wizard?

- Hallbjörn, it was between him and me. A duel of magicians. That's it. You're a warrior, it's the kind of thing you know, isn't it?

The mercenary relaxed.

- Yeah, right. But next time, try to let us know.

- We are brothers in arms, now, Psody. If you have this kind of problem, we must help you deal with, Abigail explained.

- But we will let you start or accept a duel, without interfering, Hallbjörn added. We can understand, it's part of our laws.

Sister Abigail approached:

- Seriously, do not go too far away from us during this mission! Remember, unlike most of Captain Ludviksson's mercenaries, someone waits for your come back.

- Sister, you can say "_all_ of mercenaries", clarified the Norse.

- Anyway, do not risk your life for a mere bravado. This person is more important. She is too important to stupidly risk your life.

- Yes... You are right-right, sister Abigail.

The Norse took a few steps in the direction of the bridge, and in a powerful voice, imitated the cry of the wolf three times. Sister Abigail stared at the small temple still. Fifteen minutes later, Nedland and Brother Tomas joined them. They were surprised to see Ko'Liňon.

- First time in my life I see one of them, the Halfling muttered.

- Have you not been already here? the clerk of Verena asked.

- Indeed, but I saw critters and plants only.

- How the little white rat said it was called?

- Skink, said Tomas, who had read Marco Colombo's travelogues, too. The first explorers who established a relationship of equals with the Lizardmen have noticed there are at least four distinct species in these people. This one is a Skink: they present the features of the water salamander, and are the ones who talk to the Humans the most willingly.

- Can you describe the other three species? Sister Abigail asked.

- Of course. The most common are the Saurus warriors. They are as big as humans, and really look like lizards on two feet. These are the warriors who form the bulk of their armies. Fierce, strong and sturdy. But the most formidable in combat are the Kroxigors. They are huge, measuring an average of nine feet high, and have a terrible strength.

- Well... Hallbjörn muttered. And the fourth kind?

- The Slann... Huge toads collapsing under their own fat. These are the spiritual and military masters of this people. They are very few, but could live thousands of years. You can imagine their mentality is not comparable to most of other people.

The Norse looked up, realising that the little ratman didn't say a word, and didn't even listen to the conversation. Psody had taken out a folding shovel from Tomas's tool backpack. Hallbjörn raised his eyebrows in surprise when he saw the White Skaven White digging a hole near the body of the Lizardman. When he realised the four Human and the Halfling were watching him doing, he paused and asked hesitantly:

- What brother Pieter did when he threw Günter in the sea... does it also works on the ground?

- If you're planning to put him in this hole and reseal is, it does.

The young ratman gave a small nod and continued his work. The Norse came and raised his hand.

- Come on, give me that shovel.

- Huh?

- You are a priest by formation, your role is rather to make him the last rites. Think about what to say, while I dig.

- But... I don't know what to say!

- We saw you earlier. I didn't understand, but the passion was there. You'll just have to start over.

The White Skaven nodded and handed the shovel to the mercenary. Hallbjörn began to dig, and the young ratman knelt rat body, put his hand on the cold front of the Lizardman, closed his eyes and murmured an improvised prayer. Romulus, Tomas and Abigail remained behind, each one meditating with his divinity, in his own way. After a few minutes, the hole was big enough, the Norse and the prior deposited the corpse of the Skink, with all his equipment with the exception of his totem. Hallbjörn corked the grave and planted the pole in the pile of dirt.

- That's it! Thus, it is shown he's respected, even in death.

- Ha! This is something that no Skaven would think to do!

- Really? What do Skaven do with their dead? Tomas asked.

Psody cleared his throat.

- Well... generally, Skaven die in battle, against an enemy or after a quarrel between themselves. Slaves die by exhaustion or disease, or by taking strikes. Death can come at any time, and we don't question about the existence of an afterlife. So the dead are left behind when we flee the battlefield... or even when we won! Or, those who die in good health...

Seeing the young White Skaven hesitating, Hallbjörn frowned.

- So?

- So everyone needs to live, right? A Skaven whose meat isn't rotten by disease, poison or warpstone can make a good meal.

- What? Are you telling us that the Skaven are… _cannibals_?

- Is that so surprising to you?

- Not so much.

The clerk of Verena realised something:

- And you? Have you ever eaten Skaven?

- I am a Grey Seer, I have always been given the best meat during my stay in Brissuc. I have not always known what it was, especially when I was a pup. I ate Human meat, and it is possible I have already nibbled Skaven parts. But I learned to eat fruits and vegetables and other meats. In addition, Romulus told me in the Empire, eating Humans is a crime that can send you to the stake.

- Remind me never to accept an invitation to dinner without you inform me about the provenance of the food!

- Hallbjörn, if I survive you, I will bury you into the ground, not in my stomach. I promise.

The Norse chuckled with a lightly nervous laugh, but stopped when he saw the figure of the young Skaven collapsing.

- So what?

- I just realised something: Love gave me the strength to overcome him... and therefore, to kill him. I thought it was a creative energy, and nothing else? Now, I just killed someone! Has Love a destructive side?

- Oh, well... Love can make you do crazy things, explained Romulus. This is the opposite of reason.

The large pink eyes of the Zhite Skaven twinkled. A small tear slid down his cheek.

- I regret having killed him. This is... this is the first time... I regret that.

Hallbjörn friendly patted the shoulder of the ratman.

- Listen, for this guy, you have no regret or remorse to have. Remember two things, little white rat. First, according to what you've told us, he wouldn't hesitate to skewer you. Second, he just assumed his choice.

- What choice? He had no choice, he had to respect the word of his god!

- No, no, no. Experience has taught me that as long as you're alive, you always have choice. Even in the most desperate situations, you can choose to give up, or fight. He chose to obey orders, as you chose to leave your people a few months ago, and just as you chose to defend your life. If he had chosen to let you pass without fuss, he would still be alive. He chose his end. Come on, wasted enough time! We have a temple to visit!

He picked up the tool bag and walked with a resolute step towards Tixoco temple, quickly followed by the others.

Temple Tixoco certainly was not very big, but it was relatively well preserved. Contrary to the fears of Romulus, the place had not been completely overrun by greenery. The Skink priest had probably ensured maintenance. The Norse and the Templar settled torches on the walls, and the flickering light ended to illuminate dark areas away from sunlight passing through the opening. Captain Ludviksson gave a long whistle of admiration.

- Oh yeah! This is scientific stuff!

The famous fresco briefly analysed by Marco Colombo appeared to all eyes in its entirety. The Estalian explorer hadn't been able to copy much of it. The drawing in stone took place as a mineral tapestry along the entire length of the opposite wall to the entrance, and the other two perpendicular walls. Left, impressive scenes where Lizardmen erected a city, prayed towards a bright sun which appeared in a reptilian face grimacing, succeeded. The right wall had other more unexpected scenes: Lizardmen carrying between their arms small beings imaged with a pointed snout, long teeth and round ears. The more the fresco marched to the left, the more the small ones grew up, and mingled with the activities of the Lizardmen.

Psody looked at the right wall closer. They were Skaven indeed.

_Dressed__ like cold-things, acting like cold-things, they really participate in the life of cold-things!_

And as the etching progressed from right to left, the Skaven were becoming more and more numerous, and more and more assured. Finally, right in the centre of the end wall, Lizardmen and Skaven came together and knelt before the character that stood right in the middle. It was the character Marco Colombo was deemed most worthy to be remembered. The little ratman gloated to be able to see him with his own eyes, but also had a twinge on his heart: no sudden vision, no revelation. He narrowed his eyes, craned his neck to the fresco.

The individual who seemed to be the main actor in the scene seemed slightly huger than the other characters. He was raising his arms to the sky, revealing four fingered hands with long, sharp nails. He wore a cloak made with bird feathers, and a ringed tail stocked out from under his cloak. Two horns protruded from both sides of his skull, but his face didn't match that of a Skaven: the head was round, and his features were not those of a ratman: large protruding eyes, a grinning mouth, a forked tongue ... he remembered another detail.

_A mask! It was about a mask! I guess the sculptor represented him with this mask._

The clerk of Verena friendly patted the shoulder of the little ratman, pulling him out of his reverie.

- Okay, let's go, we've got work! You come?

- Uh... yes, my friend.

Tomas was one of the few members of the expedition who sympathised with the young White Skaven upon their departure, while travelling on the _Determinazione_. Between men of religion, they quickly established a friendly relationship such as they spoke without manners. Moreover, Tomas was the youngest member of the expedition apart the small ratman, and both were about the same age, which approached them more.

The clerk of Verena hadn' been chosen by chance to be part of the expedition: of all the members of the Order of the Keepers of Truth, he was the one who knew the most about Lizardmen. He had heard some legends of this people as a child, and since then had done everything to glean as much information as possible about them. He had begged his parents to take him to the greatest libraries of the Empire to study them. Such an enthusiasm was quickly spotted by Verena priests, who offered him to join their ranks. The young Tomas had accepted with enthusiasm, he had understood well this was the best way to extend the field of his knowledge.

His brilliant intellect and excellent memory helped him more than once to solve a mystery. Few living or dead languages were unknown to him, and he was trained to decipher some of the few Lizardmen glyphs recovered by imperial explorers.

This time, however, the challenge was daunting. It was a complete story whose characters followed the mural on its entire length. The images were the illustrations, and the young clerk hoped the little ratman could help him understand, once the meaning roughly translated.

He was down to work and picked up from the leather bag all his equipment. He took a few minutes to unfold and install a portable console. He took out his writing materials, retreated a few steps away from the wall to see it in its entirety, and thought for a moment.

- Well, well, where to start... Ah!

He hastened to take notes, muttering softly the translation.

- "Walk... on the way... of Sotek. Listen to his word... understand... his ideals."

He turned to his companions.

- It will take some time. If you want to peep around or do something else, please do it. I imagine that within this room, there is no danger.

- I'll still check there are no hidden device, Nedland suggested. Stories of traps or secret passages flow in my profession.

- Psody, can you see something?

- Not really...

- We'll see when I finish.

But the little ratman didn't pay more attention to anything. In fact, another sad idea was already torturing his brains for a few minutes. Without a word, he walked towards the exit of the temple. After a few steps far of the structure, he returned to the tomb of the priest, and remained on his knees near the mound.

- It's all my fault... and the fault of the destructive character... of the Sons of the Horned Rat!

He remained an indefinable time so. The voice of the Myrmidia Templar pulled him out of his daze. He turned, his nose stuffy and his eyes reddened. Without a word, the woman hugged him, and let him cry on his shoulder again. After a long minute, the White Skaven calmed down a bit.

- Well! For someone who has failed to slay you, you seem to regret his loss a lot!

- That's my reaction… I regret, Sister Abigail. Now I look back, I realise... I acted like a brat! As soon as I saw him, I don't know why, I wanted to be aggressive! As if my instinct led me to hate him and provoke his anger! He just asked me to go, I didn't listen! If I had been wiser, things...

- You don't know. You've told us he was ready to kill you. If you had obeyed, you would have left without the answers to your questions. Your desire to know the truth was stronger. Would you have supported returning to the Empire and spend the rest of your days to ask you the same questions forever?

- Was it worth the life of a honourable priest?

The Templar sighed.

- Hard to say, I agree. Well, take this as a new lesson. Now, when you are faced with a similar situation, you will think about this priest, and remember that violence, even if it is unfortunately sometimes necessary, is the worst solution. People like Captain Ludviksson find their account within, some will delight with, and I am among those who find nothing glorious in war, only death and destruction. However, I am optimistic: your reaction proves once again how much you think like a Human. From what I was told by Romulus, Skaven never learn from their mistakes, and that is their main problem. It is a defect you gradually learned to correct. I don't know who gave you the foundation of our system of thought, but this person was an excellent teacher. She would be proud of you. And if this tragic episode will help you later to build something better for our two peoples, then it was worth a life.

- Maybe... maybe that's what he wanted to tell me before I...

- Come on, think no more. You come with me?

The little ratman dried his tears, and both returned to Tixoco. Once in the temple, the prior of Shallya asked:

- You feel better, my young friend?

- I don't know, Romulus. I... I am really tired of magic. The Horned Rat has given me a gift envied by all my peers, and most of yours, but as long as I'll use it to destroy and corrupt, I can't change forever.

The priest of Shallya put a friendly hand on the shoulder of the small White Skaven.

- You know, it may be possible to arrange that, too.

- How so?

- You're still young and you have time. I wonder if you couldn't learn to use the winds of magic otherwise?

- You think so?

- Yes. Master Steadyhand may be able to help you.

- He's a Bright Mage. He purifies by flames, I suppose?

- He does, but maybe he knows another Mage who could teach you a more beneficial magic? Someone from College of Light, or Jade?

- Jade?

- Magic of life, which fertilises the plants and cures pain. You learned to rot, learning to do the opposite may be easier than learning something completely different?

- Maybe... Psody replied thoughtfully.

Tomas made a hand gesture in their direction.

- Come and see! I begin to understand!

Psody and Romulus marched, joined by Abigail, Nedland and Hallbjörn. All waited anxiously what was going to tell the clerk of Verena. He coughed and explained:

- If I believe what I'm reading, basically... it is about an isolated city where the Slann people tried to approach the Skaven people.

- How so?

- Well ... first, the Slann have "delivered mothers and their children from the clutches of their captors". They took breeders, and have welcomed them with Skaven children.

- What?

Psody couldn't believe it.

- Yes! That explains the bas-relief where cold-things and Skaven seem to get closer thanks to the central character.

- Did they really create a city where they raised Skaven by their principles?! Ludviksson asked sceptically.

- It has not gone wrong! The beginning seemed promising, according to this text.

- But the cold-things are secular enemies of the Skaven people for thousands of years!

- It was the initiative of a young Slann named Xarkish. This priest was ordained by the Venerable Lord Kroak, you can see on this bas-relief in the corner, on the left.

- Yes, this is the great golden mask with the snake totem I saw in Marco Colombo's book, approved Psody. When did this happen?

- About two thousand years ago. Xarkish oversaw the construction of a small town to create an entire society. This city was named Capatec Hanahuac.

- I have the feeling Steiner is not so innovative, ultimately. Too bad for him.

- I think he will survive, quipped Romulus, especially if what we bring him gives him the basics of something he could do.

This time, Tomas looked surprised.

- He wants to establish a state where Skaven and Humans would live together?

- When he formally adopted Heike, he told me he had already thought about what he could do if, in one way or another, she had children.

- He didn't say anything about it to me! And this is madness! Psody exclaimed.

- Maybe not. Heike and you... would be the firsts, said the young archivist, smiling.

The young Skaven White had a doubtful face.

- We are only two, to found a city, it's not enough! Besides, what would say your people if it is known? Your churches? And Dwarves, and Elves? They would all league against us!

- It is not because they are numerous to be wrong they are right, Psody, said Tomas.

- Even the Slann have renounced! Besides, why? What happened?

- The Slann had started well, and could have gone further in other circumstances. One of the first sons of the Horned Rat homed by them was a White Skaven. He was "just out of his mother's womb". They named him... wait, that's a Slann name with a particular pronunciation... "Cuelepok".

Suddenly, the little ratman felt a spark briefly illuminate his mind. A feeling of déjà vu, as if this name was really familiar to him.

- This is the first time I hear this name, yet it reminds me something, vaguely... What can you tell us about him?

- As he became an adult, he was appointed by Xarkish as head of the colony. Educated according to the Slann precepts, he aimed to help them in their projects to balance the world.

- You think this is him, on the centre of the famous bas-relief? The masked figure with his kind of horns?

- I'm even sure, my sister. The text says he was very wise, but he knew that his life was not commensurate with Xarkish's. He did everything to be humble, and saw himself as a servant of the Slann people and Sotek, not as a leader. He did everything to be conciliatory toward both Skaven and Lizardmen who lived together. Unfortunately for him, many other Slann considered him as a danger. For the mage priests, Capatec Hanahuac was becoming gangrene. The Lizardmen were at war against the Skaven "that carry the disease".

- Clan Pestilens, muttered the White Skaven. So what?

- The mage priests feared to see the Skaven of the city ally with Pestilens and undermine them from within, and from the pressure of his subordinates, Kroak ended the project, it involved the destruction of any trace.

Psody then understood that what the clerk was telling was neither more nor less than the explanation of the visions he had.

- Indeed, yes... I've seen it all! I attended the first births, and some moments of everyday life, then this... great cleaning. There was actually a White Skaven. What happened to this Cuelepok?

- No one can tell. He was extensively tortured for example, but managed to escape. He has never been seen him since. However, he wouldn't go empty-handed. He took something with him.

- It is written, too? Hallbjörn asked.

- Yes. In fact, it is the last sentence of the story. Basically, it says: "Cuelepok disappeared, taking his secrets and the source of his last conflict with Venerable Lord Kroak".

Psody closed his eyes and concentrated, concentrated as ever. He felt a clue was hiding in a corner of his mind. He focused his thoughts on the visions he had seen about Cuelepok's tragic story. A phrase came back to him. Something that was said at the White Skaven.

- "And give us this abjection! This is sacrilege!"

- What? What is sacrilege? the prior asked.

The little ratman put his finger on the central character of the engraving.

- This! He's wearing a gold mask, like Kroak. It is his friend Xarkish who gave him this gift, but Kroak's goons didn't agree, and then seized it from him. Maybe he managed to get it back before fleeing?

- That's possible, Hallbjörn muttered. In any case, this "Venerable Lord Kroak" seemed to be a bounded tyrant bastard. He preferred to stay in his ignorance and erase all traces!

Nedland silently nodded. He knew before his mercenary life, the Norse had been in the regular Imperial Army, and had been confronted too often to stuck in the system captains or lieutenants. Hallbjörn had finally quit, and had kept a certain aversion to leaders more conscious of the protocol than efficiency.

- Are you sure of what you saw? Sister Abigail asked.

- Sure, my Sister. But it makes me think about something else!

Psody turned to Romulus.

- These visions may be a message from Cuelepok himself? The Horned Rat wanted his spirit to meet mine? And this is him who's trying to talk to me?

- It's still not him that ordered you to kill Gotrek and Felix?

The White Skaven thought more.

- I wonder if sir Jaeger was right? Vellux told me Grey Seers are all bound together by the will of the Horned Rat. Maybe it's not a lie? And if Cuelepok spoke to me, then Thanquol...

- Could have been talking to you, too, and give you orders, but with much less friendly intentions! the prior ended. Have you seen him, recently?

- No. I wonder if the visions with Thanquol weren't related to warpstone? That's when I took the warpstone that Thanquol started talking to me. However, in recent months, I had no contact with warpstone. I feel Thanquol is no longer able to poison my mind, and Cuelepok takes over back.

- Yeah, in other words, you have two white rats who are fighting each other for the monopoly to invade your cum! Hallbjörn chuckled. How fun!

- Can you tell me since when you feel less Thanquol's wrath? Romulus asked.

The little ratman thought deeply.

- I think... since I arrived in Altdorf. Since I started working with sir Steiner. Since...

- Since you acquainted with Heike, completed the prior with a small smile. Your mind is less tormented, and also stronger, because your mood has improved.

Tomas finished correcting his notes and asked the young White Skaven:

- So, does it remind you anything else?

- No. I was hoping to see something, but eventually... I'm disappointed.

- We did what we could, Psody, reassured Romulus. And maybe this temple has not yet revealed all its secrets?

- It's crazy, moreover, added Nedland. If the Venerable Lord Kroak ordered the complete eradication of tame Skaven and the destruction of Capatec Hanahuac, how could we find this story, in this temple? Does this place have escaped his vigilance?

- Good question, replied the little ratman. Tomas, you read a lot about the cold-things, you wouldn't... Tomas?

The young clerk of Verena seemed troubled.

- There is another problem. I managed to translate the entire text, with the exception of a small part.

- Which one?

Tomas showed a corner of the fresco. The symbols were quite different from the rest.

- This is another language, and I don't get a word.

- So, you have failed to understand the meaning?

- Unfortunately not, prior Romulus.

Psody looked in turn, narrowed his eyes... and a long amused smile stretched his lips.

- It doesn't surprise me!

- Hey, it's not very nice! the clerk protested, stung. I do what I can!

- I'm sure, Tomas. But I'm the only one who can translate it!

There was a short stunned silence, that Psody used to explain:

- It is a secret language that is only transmitted from Grey Seer mouth to Grey Seer ear. Even Skaven scholars who are not direct servants of the Horned Rat don't know how to read it.

- Cuelepok could have learned to speak it without having been raised by a Grey Seer?

- I guess Slann could wrest the secret to a Grey Seer they had captured, and transmit it to Cuelepok so he could read the coded messages, Romulus suggested. What does it say?

- This is a series of numbers. Do you mind?

Psody handed to Tomas, implicitly asking his parchment and quill. He copied the symbols, scribbled notes, and showed the result to Romulus.

- I understand these numbers, but not what they mean...

- And I do understand very well what they indicate, Psody. Whoever the author, he took care to use a universal system. And besides, it makes sense: the one the Elves of Ulthuan have transmitted to Humans, and that they themselves should have received from the Slann. These are coordinates!

- Coordinates? And, in your opinion, what do they indicate?

- Come on, Psody, don't tell me you don't have an idea!

The White Skaven clapped his hands.

- Capatec Hanahuac!


End file.
